


Fractured (Discontinued)

by wwheeljack



Series: Scars Universe [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: War for Cybertron
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwheeljack/pseuds/wwheeljack
Summary: Stellar cycles have passed since Team Prime revived Cybertron and, through trials and tribulations, the planet is at peace.Living with the Wreckers for nearly two stellar cycles is Breakdown, a young paranoid Cybertronian who only knows a little about his forty stellar cycle life. Dreadwing cares for him and he is happy and safe. Until he learns that Dreadwing and the others are keeping something from him. But why? Needing to understand who he is, Breakdown flees the safety and comfort of the Wreckers headquarters in search of learning who - or what - he is.And, in the shadows, forgotten and quiet, destruction and death plots.(Sequel to Scars).





	1. Prologue

He was so close, so _close_ . He only needed one more to complete his little… _project_ -

“Shockwave.”

It was Predaking, more than likely here to check in on the status of his ‘brethren’.

“Yes, Predaking?” Shockwave asked politely as he turned to the towering Predacon.

“I just wanted to check on how my newest brethren were coming along. My people wish to meet them soon.”

“They are coming along nicely. They will be completed in the next few cycles,” Shockwave informed, servo indicating the four large tubes containing the growing Predacon clones.

“I am glad to hear that, Shockwave. You have done me, and my brethren, an incomparable service since Cybertron was revived,” Predaking rumbled, giving a respectful nod to Shockwave.

“It was only logical,” Shockwave said evasively, offering Predaking an uninterested wave of his servo. _The Predacon_ will _learn._

“I wish you to have the remainder of your day be good, Shockwave,” Predaking said then, with the familiar hiss of shifting metal, transformed into his dragon alt and walked out of Shockwave’s laboratory.

Shockwave watched after Predaking then walked away from his ‘main’ laboratory room. He pushed open an old door, revealing another lab room, though this was not occupied by tubes of cloned Predacons, but four unconscious Cybertronians. Ignoring them, Shockwave walked up to one of his monitor systems, servo racing over the control panel to pull up an image.

His gaze turned back to the four unconscious mechs, who had been with him for many stellar cycles, then to the image displayed on his monitor.

 _Megatron took command of the first and now all five of them have scattered about this planet._ They _won’t work with me again, nor any Decepticon. These four - the only four to live my experiment - are much more willing to obey me; much more than that arrogant fool. I just need the last component of my ‘project’ to make a new one. But every mech I have brought since these four has failed to live my experiment. I_ need _five to complete my plan._

 _I think it is time I woke my four volunteers. They shall help find the last component and then -_ then _\- I shall have my weapon._

Shockwave deactivated his monitor and looked towards the four Cybertronians laid out on medical slabs in his secret laboratory room. One golden yellow - _the vain one_ \- and with a propensity towards speed, the insane, reckless red and black one, the pessimistic red one and their leader, the arrogant, cold-sparked purple and black one. All Decepticons, all so drastically _naive_ , but so vital to his plan.

 _One more and I shall have_ him _and, no longer shall I be a slave to_ his _demands. I have planned for enough time now, I just need one more piece to my project and my plan will finally be ready. I have waited for stellar cycle upon stellar cycle for this. They will never see it coming._


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stellar cycles: years
> 
> Cycles: days
> 
> Transformers © HASBRO

Breakdown slunk through the dark hallways of the Wreckers' headquarters, optics watching each shadow with focused intent. Nearly two orbital-cycles had passed since Breakdown had tried to steal Dreadwing's gun-sword and was then subsequently taken in by Dreadwing. He wasn't to sure  _why_ Dreadwing had taken him under his wing -  _ha, under his wing! -_ and cared for Breakdown. Not that Breakdown was complaining, far from it actually, he just didn't understand the reason Dreadwing had adopted him.

As he snuck down the hallway, his thoughts turned to the day Dreadwing had taken him to Team Prime's headquarters and then, to his and Ratchet's surprise, Dreadwing had volunteered to care for Breakdown.

" _What are we going to do with him, Dreadwing?"_

" _We can't just put him back out on the streets, Ratchet. He wouldn't last long alone."_

" _Are you implying that-"_

" _Yes, I'll take him in and care for this…_ Breakdown _. It is the right thing to do."_

Dreadwing had cared for Breakdown since that day and, though Dreadwing had never stayed it out right to Breakdown, the young mech  _knew_ Dreadwing cared deeply for Breakdown. It was an odd, and very new, feeling for Breakdown, knowing some mech cared about his well being. Living a cycle to cycle life on the roads, without s knowing anyone who cared about him, had become second nature to Breakdown's thoughts and he was still adjusting to having somemech who liked him.

Breakdown drew to a halt at the end of the dark hallway, peeking into the intersecting hallway quietly.  _Well, no one to-_

"What are doing up, Breakdown? Sneaking around?"

Wheeljack's voice, sharp as freshly honed blades, sent a stab of fear through Breakdown's back. Slowly, and with a nervous smile, Breakdown turned around and stared up at Wheeljack. The white Wrecker had his arms crossed over his chest plate and his blue optics were narrowed to thin slivers as he glared down at Breakdown. Wheeljack always made Breakdown nervous with how the older Cybertronian always seemed to be watching him constantly. It didn't help that Wheeljack had made it quite plain from the first cycle that he disliked Breakdown the moment Dreadwing brought him to the Wrecker headquarters.

"Uh," Breakdown stammered.  _I can't tell him the truth, he'll just pry and I'll have to answer questions I don't want to_. "I was just going to get a bit of energon before I head off to recharge for the night."

"At  _this_ time?" Wheeljack's optics narrowed suspiciously at Breakdown then, with a vent and a roll of his optics, Wheeljack turned away from Breakdown. "If you are looking for the energon storeroom, shouldn't you be in the North Wing of the building,  _not_ South Wing? I can't even begin to understand  _why_ you would be down  _here_."

Breakdown avoided Wheeljack's knowing gaze and stammered out a quick, "I got lost", in answer to the Wrecker's question. Wheeljack snorted in response then stomped away from Breakdown, leaving him to stare after the white Wrecker's back.

"Why do you dislike me so much, Wheeljack?" The words were out of Breakdown's mouth before he realized, his optics widening as Wheeljack stopped and turned partially towards him.

"You could never understand," Wheeljack hissed. Breakdown flinched at Wheeljack's tone though, for a second - a mere  _nanosecond_  - Breakdown could have sworn that underneath Wheeljack's angered tone was pain.

_What happened to you, Wheeljack? Who hurt you?_ Breakdown wondered as Wheeljack walked down the same hallway Breakdown had come from, curiosity edging his thoughts.

Once Wheeljack was long out of sight and audial range, Breakdown turned and continued to slink down the hallway.  _South Wing leads to-_

" _Has he shown any symptoms of memory recollection, know things he shouldn't?"_

"Not that I have been able to discern yet, Ratchet." Breakdown's spark sunk when he recognized both voices immediately. It was Ratchet and Dreadwing, respectively.

_Oh, scrap_. Breakdown froze, optics turning to the partially open door he was standing in front of.  _South Wing leads to Dreadwing, Bulkhead and Wheeljack's quarters not the Research and Study Room. I should have- Frag, I'm such an idiot!_

"What if you are overthinking this, Ratchet? It seems very far flung to assume that he is linked to  _him_. It is more than likely just a coincidence-"

" _An extremely_ suspicious  _coincidence, Dreadwing. I've shown you his processor scans and there is_ something  _different with him. If he is-"_

"Ratchet, enough. Aside from his crippling paranoia, what is wrong with him?Nothing, that is what. I think you are just looking too deep into this. The oddity you detected is more than likely a side effect of being created by the Allspark."

" _That is the exact reason I want you to keep your optics on him. There could be_ something  _there-"_

"Ratchet. I know you want to think that this one is the one we knew, but what if he isn't? He deserves the chance to be himself, not having thoughts of our deceased friend cloud the truth. He's young and deserves our care, even if he isn't  _him_."

" _Whatever you say Dreadwing. Just, do watch him for anything_ different _, please?"_

"I watch him because I care about him, not to see if he-"

"Hey! What are you up to, Breakers?"

Breakdown shot sideways, spark shuddering with fear.  _Someone had been watching me? Who?!_ Panic rising in his processor, Breakdown jerked around and his gaze snapped to the sleek white, blue and lavender colored mech standing behind him.

"Windriver?!" He gasped in nervous relief, optics shifting between the daughter of Team Prime's Smokescreen and Breezedrift, and the door to Dreadwing's room.

Windriver let out a light chuckle then smiled down at Breakdown. She was half a stellar-cycle older than Breakdown and had joined the Wrecker Recruit Program the same stellar cycle Breakdown had been taken in by Dreadwing. Windriver was a flyer, like her carrier, and always seemed to enjoy stalking - and mocking -Breakdown.

"Well, I got tired of sparkling-sitting Shockbreak," Shockbreak was Bulkhead and Clawshock's - both Wrecker Program instructors - sparkling, "and so I decided to go wandering. I saw you and had to see what you were up to. Listening in on Dreadwing? He won't be pleased, you know that?"

" _Shh_! If you be quiet he won't know we are out here!" Breakdown hissed as he glanced nervously towards Dreadwing's room once more.

"Why are you so worried, Breakers-"

"My name is  _Breakdown_ , not  _Breakers_ ," Breakdown interrupted angrily, which only earned him a nonchalant shrug from Windriver.

"Okay,  _Breakdown_ ," Windriver snorted loudly, "don't be so grouchy all the time…  _Breakers_."

"I- I just said that-"

"Okay, okay grouchy," Windriver laughed, servos raiding apologetically, "It was a joke. Just teasing you as always."

"Well, I would prefer you didn't-"

"Oh fine," Windriver groused, arms crossing over her chest plate as she shot Breakdown a pointed glare. Breakdown returned the glare, engine stalling slightly as Windriver cracked open the door to Dreadwing's room with utter nonchalance.

"What are you-"

"Breakdown. Windriver." Dreadwing's voice was calm, though Breakdown did not fail to hear the cold snap to his caretaker's words.

Windriver flinched at Dreadwing's words, a nervous laugh escaping her vents as she hurriedly backed away from the towering Seeker. Dreadwing turned his sharp gaze to Breakdown, a disapproving shake of his helm preceding his words.

"If I recall, your quarters are both in the West Wing, so why are  _both_ of you wandering around in South Wing?"

"I was watching Shockbreak, Instructor Dreadwing," Windriver explained hurriedly, and… I got bored and left him in his container. I saw Breakdown standing outside your room and was curious why he was."

Dreadwing narrowed his optics at Windriver disapprovingly, a shake of his helm preceding his words. "You are remarkably irresponsible, Windriver. Bulkhead and Clawshock trust you to take care of Shockbreak and instead you wander about, stalking Breakdown. How would you feel if Shockbreak hurt himself while you went on your irresponsible, impulsive jaunts?"

"Uh," Windriver hesitated, optics averting from Dreadwing as a quilt thrum whined from her engine. "I'm sorry, sir. I- I should get back to Shockbreak before the little guy hurts himself."

With a deep, nervous nod to Dreadwing, Windriver hurried away, leaving Breakdown to stare up at the disapproving look Dreadwing was sending him.

"I'm sorry, Dreadwing-"

"How long were you listening?"

"Not for long. I didn't hear much, though it was enough to figure you and Ratchet were talking about me. About how I'm  _different_ , 'special', whatever scrap Ratchet thinks of me," Breakdown admitted defeatedly, optics shifting from Dreadwing so he did not have to see his caretaker's reaction.

Dreadwing vented softly then, with a gentleness reserved only for Breakdown, Dreadwing pulled Breakdown's helm upwards so his optics meet Dreadwing's own. Breakdown tried to pull away from Dreadwing but stopped when he saw Dreadwing's optics shift, a gentle light softening his red optics.

"Ratchet and I were talking about you, but not for the reasons you believe," Dreadwing admitted. "And, no matter how 'different' you may be, I will always care about you. You are important to me."

Breakdown looked away from Dreadwing, embarrassment heating his fuel lines. He was still unaccustomed to having anyone care about him - sometimes the thought made him nervous, admittedly - and he could not help but feel a tad nerves by Dreadwing's admission.

"Now, Breakdown, would you be willing to explain why you are up this late? Are you okay?" Dreadwing asked quietly, the evident concern in his voice drawing Breakdown's gaze back to his caretaker.

"I was trying to get to the Research and Study Room. I've been wanting to know more about the Well of the AllSpark. I want to know why the Well created me," Breakdown grumbled. "But I got lost.  _Again_."

"Why not just go in the day?" Dreadwing asked, optics questioning.

"Because," Breakdown muttered, "I didn't want anyone to see me in that room. Not just because they would start asking questions, but the recruits never stop  _staring_ at me. I hate being watched every time I go  _anywhere_ in this place." Breakdown's engine growled and his optics shuttered with a vent.

Practically from the moment he had awakened, Breakdown had hated the thought, the idea, the  _feeling_ , of anyone watching him. He hated how his chassis crawled whenever he was near crowds and he could not help but stare at everymech suspiciously - one could never known when somemech was watching them with ill intent.

Dreadwing patted Breakdown's shoulder gently then, as Breakdown looked up at the Seeker, turned back to his room. He looked back at Breakdown once. "Tomorrow I, and the rest of the Wreckers, will not be here. There is a meeting I and the other instructors have to attend at Team Prime's headquarters tomorrow. That means you can do whatever you want here, unless you would like to come with me and meet the rest of Team Prime?Aside from Ratchet that is."

Breakdown shook his helm and muttered a rapid, "No thanks," which Dreadwing nodded understandingly too.

"Very well. Please, try not to make any mischief while we are gone tomorrow - though I know you won't - just keep an optic on the recruits? If you have the chance?" Dreadwing asked, his words light with humor as he gave a gentle rub to Breakdown's helm.

Breakdown smiled and let out a light laugh as Dreadwing lifted his servo away from his helm, a small smile curving across his faceplate.

"Why don't you get off to recharge now, Breakdown? I'll see you late tomorrow night but, if anything comes up, just send me a message through the comms," Dreadwing said then, with a nod to Breakdown, the blue Seeker walked back into his room.

Breakdown stared at the closed door to Dreadwing's rooms for a few moments then, deciding he really would be best getting off to his quarters, hurried back down the hallway.

* * *

The Research and Study Room had always been a quiet place and, for that exact reason, it was Breakdown's favorite place to stay and get lost in his thoughts within the Wreckers' headquarters. He was nestled into a small, hidden space between two huge shelves, stocked full with a wealth of datapads filled with eons of information. It helped that - at least to a point - no mech would be staring at him in his space, due to the fact it was so well hidden.

Breakdown had risen early and was deep into a datapad detailing out the history of the Well of the Allspark. This particular data had been updated to display information on the revival of the Well by Team Prime but, even still, it did not have what Breakdown was looking for.

Grumbling to himself, Breakdown deactivated that datapad and picked up another, this one labeled  _Myths and Rumors of the Well_ , written by somemech named Truthseeker.  _Ironic_.

Breakdown activated the datapad and scanned its table of contents.  _The origin of the Well,_   _ghost sparks, visions of the deceased, reincarnation, no none of these. Ah, there! Creation!_

Quelling the small burst of excitement that raced through his fuel lines, Breakdown clicked the 'Creation' headline, optics narrowing as the datapad shifted to that chapter of content. The first few paragraphs detailed the same exact information as all other holos published about the Well; how creation from the Well was not a myth some much as a vastly unknown phenomenon. But what drew Breakdown's attention was one small paragraph:

_Creation by the Well has always lacked in complete knowledge but, it has been rumored and detailed that those that are created by the Well are done so with great purpose. As noted previously in the chapter_ "Recreation: An Argument Towards the Possible"  _there is obscure evidence that recreation of previous sparks has happened. It is important to distinguish between creation and recreation. While alike, both vary greatly. Creation is when the Well brings to line a brand new Cybertronian and recreation, at least as rumored, recycled the spark of a Cybertronian that has offlined and created a new frame for that spark-_

Breakdown reread the paragraph, an odd jolt of  _something_  waking in his spark as he read over the words once more.  _That sounds impossible - ridiculous even. I understand creation but recreation? Sounds like some scrap-headed fool got into too much high-grade. You can't just take the soul of a spark and transplant into some random frame. Right?_

"Breakdown," an aged voice snapped Breakdown out of his thoughts and away from the datapad, optics shifting to the old, steel colored Cybertronian standing over him.

"Yes, Lorespeaker?" Breakdown asked, helm tilting as the mech, an ancient former Autobot that was the records keeper of the Research and Study Room.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Lorespeaker apologized, "but I located some more publications that might interest you." Lorespeaker paused for a few nanoseconds then produced two datapads from his sub-space compartment, placing both in front of Breakdown.

Breakdown peered down at the active datapads and frowned slightly. " _Till All Are One: The Story of Team Prime_ and  _The Wings That Broke:_   _How two Decepticons Changed Cybertron_. What? Lorespeaker, I'm not interested in  _this_ , I need to know about the Well of the Allspark."

"I understand that young one, but it might do you well to take a break and read something else. Good day." Lorespeaker bowed and scurried away before Breakdown could protest.

Breakdown rolled his optics then placed  _Myths and Rumors of the Well_  on the ground, hesitantly reaching for the Team Prime datapad.  _Might as well just give this a try. It might do good to know more about Team Prime, especially if Dreadwing drags me along to one of their meetings someday._

Breakdown skimmed over the first few chapters, all summarizing each of the original six members of Team Prime - Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Arcee and someone called Cliffjumper - with separate, alphabetical chapters headlined by a picture of that team member and then a written chapter in their backstory. Breakdown skimmed over all but Optimus Prime and Ratchet's chapters, out of disinterest in the others and curiosity about only for Prime and Ratchet.

There were chapters on the three newer members that joined Team Prime on Earth, being Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack, and their adventures with Team Prime on Earth. But what caught his attention completely was the last chapter, titled  _Those That Turned: The Two Former Decepticons That Joined Team Prime._

Curious, Breakdown shifted to the following page and immediately froze, engine choking in disbelief. Displayed out on the datapad's screen was a clear picture of a large, blue and silver mech with one missing optic and one yellow optic the same color as his, his faceplate cut through with a long scar. For some reason - Breakdown could not fathom, could not  _understand_ \- his spark seemed to pulse with a quiet, broken longing as he stared at the holo-picture. Breakdown shifted the holo to the next page and stared, dumbfounded at the words.

_ Breakdown _

_Breakdown's story is, by this time, well known and documented - as are all that took part in the revival of our planet. But few knew him, or who he was, aside from that and being one of the two former Decepticons who changed Cybertron's government._

_One could say that Breakdown was a mech of many allegiances and that is true. Once a Wrecker, fighting for the Autobots, then a Decepticon through to the end of the war on Cybertron, Breakdown's allegiances changed one last time to that of neither side. He joined with the Autobots on Earth and served alongside them until Cybertron was reignited. After Cybertron's revival, he lived away from-_

"What?!" Breakdown gasped, mouth falling open in complete surprise.  _What? This doesn't make any sense- How-_

Breakdown paused, gathering his thoughts - and casting a suspicious glance around the vast room - as he continued to read the rest of the chapter on this Breakdown he'd never heard of before..

_After Breakdown allied himself with Team Prime in Earth, he provided support to the team and was a key part to the capture of the Omega Lock on the Decepticon warship_ Nemesis _. Breakdown formed a respectful friendship with Dreadwing, Ratchet and Wheeljack._

_Dreadwing_ and  _Wheeljack?_ Breakdown stumbled over the words, rereading them a few times in shock.  _Is that why Dreadwing took- No, it can't be. Just keep reading…_

_-Breakdown worked with Bumblebee for many, many stellar cycles, forming a close relationship with Cybertron's leader as an advisor and his staunchest challenger. No one could deny the trust which Bumblebee exhibited towards Breakdown throughout their cycles of working together. That trust held true to the end when the Senate Building of Iacon was bombed and, in the aftermath, Breakdown protected Cybertron's leader from certain death and, in turn, lost his own life. Many of Cybertron's elected officials have noted that, after Breakdown's death, they have seen a noticeable change in Leader Bumblebee's mood-_

Breakdown stopped reading, clawed servos instinctively shutting off the datapad as his processor worked to understand all of that which he had read. He had never know about this Breakdown, no one had told him about this dead Breakdown and the chapter had specifically stated that Breakdown had been close with Dreadwing, Ratchet  _and_ Wheeljack.

_Why did Dreadwing never tell me about his friend? Why did they_ all  _keep him secret from me? Why?_

* * *

"Greetings, Wreckers," Bumblebee said, helm nodding as Dreadwing, Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Clawshock and the rest of the Wrecker instructors entered Team Prime's headquarters.

Dreadwing returned Bumblebee's nod curtly, optics shifting to all of Team Prime standing behind Cybertron's leader. Arcee, Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen all returned respectful nods, while Knock Out only gave him a bored wave next to Breezedrift. When Dreadwing's gaze stopped on Ratchet, the aged medic shoot him a searching look. Dreadwing jerked his helm in response, shoulder plates moving in an imperceptible shrug that made Ratchet vent frustratedly.

As Bumblebee and the rest of Team Prime, followed by the Wreckers, Ratchet hurried over to Dreadwing.

"Where is Breakdown? You said you would bring him to this meeting so I could check up on him. Dreadwing," Ratchet scolded, "you  _promised_."

Dreadwing bristled, optics narrowing slightly as he glared down at Ratchet. "He did not wish to come. I headed his wish and did not push him to come to something he wished not to. Breakdown deserves respectful treatment from  _all_ of us."

"I would never treat Breakdown wrong, Dreadwing," Ratchet snapped, "but, if he-"

"No, Ratchet. You need to realize this Breakdown is his own self. Stop trying to bring back the Breakdown we lost." Dreadwing vented, spark hollow with pain even as he spoke. "I miss him just as much as you and everyone else, but he's gone, Ratchet. We can never have him back and pressuring this young Breakdown will only turn him against us."

Ratchet glowered at the ground then let out a vent of defeated frustration. "Whatever you say, Dreadwing."

Dreadwing stopped, gaze turning down to Ratchet, who had stopped when he did. "I have wanted to tell him about our Breakdown for a long time. It's not right to keep him in the dark about the Breakdown we cared about - or your suspicions-"

"Absolutely not!" Ratchet barked, "We  _cannot_ tell him anything.  _Ever_."

"But he has the right to know!"

" _No._ "

Dreadwing's spark boiled but he ducked his helm in quiet retreat, though he seethed internally at Ratchet's implications.

_We have no right to hide information from Breakdown. None at all._

* * *

Motormaster paced restlessly. Nearly an entire cycle had passed since Dead End, Dragstrip and Wildrider had set out in search of the fifth and final member of their team. In the nearly cycle long time the three smaller cars had been out,  _none_ of them had commed him. And  _that_ made his fuel lines burn with fury.

_They're all incompetent idiots_ , Motormaster snarled to himself as he continued to pace about the room he and the other three were forced to share.  _How could they forget to contact me? Did I not_ explicitly  _tell them too?_

_Maybe you should have gone looking yourself, instead of trusting them to accomplishing your goal?_ A mocking, smug voice echoed in Motormaster's processor, its words grinding at his gears.

But he couldn't help but admit to the truth in the words, even though it  _did_  annoy him - no one, not even his own thoughts taunted Motormaster. Though Motormaster had never known Dead End, Dragstrip or Wildrider before he had volunteered for Shockwave's 'program', he had quickly come to the conclusion that all three were complete idiots and wastes of his - and Shockwave's - time. But Motormaster would have to live with the three idiots, especially considering Shockwave had picked them specifically for his 'program'.

_Wildrider_ was  _the first one chosen for this, even before you. He should be leader by virtue of time spent in Shockwave's program_ , that same, nagging voice reminded Motormaster. And it was true - irritatingly so. Though not about Wildrider leading. Motormaster would rather join the Autobots than have that idiot leading anything, especially something that could spell Motormaster's destruction.

Wildrider had been the first to join Shockwave's program and had been with the Decepticon scientist many cycles before Motormaster had even been approached by Shockwave to become the second member of his special 'program'. Dead End had joined as the third member a good many cycles after Motormaster, then Dragstrip followed close after.

Motormaster had been unimpressed by all three from the moment he had met each one, especially Wildrider, who was completely and utterly insane. Dead End, ever the gloomy and pessimistic mech, grated on Motormaster's patience almost immediately upon meeting him. And Dragstrip, whose vanity exceeded even Starscream's, was the one who Motormaster watched most closely. He didn't like how Dragstrip seemed to always watch him studiously, plotting what, Motormaster did not know.

_I_ don't  _trust him_ , Motormaster snarled to himself.  _Not Dragstrip. The other two… they aren't as untrustworthy. Wildrider is merely insane and Dead End's too much of a gloomy fool to be a threat. Dragstrip, on the other servo, cannot be trusted. I must watch him closely._

Motormaster's pacing slowed as he heard a strange chittering noise coming from one of Shockwave's other laboratory rooms, further from where Motormaster was. He listened carefully, warily, then, when the strange chittering faded away an involuntary shudder rattled through his chassis.  _Must have been one of those Predacon clones he is always working on. I_ don't  _like them._

As the strange chittering sound died away a newer, and much louder, sound echoed through the laboratory hallways. Motormaster's optics narrowed as his gaze turned to his - and Dead End's, Dragstrip's and Wildrider's - room's entrance. A few moments after he did, the sound of an engine cutting announced the arrival of the black car that entered the room.

The car was a very sporty, gray and black color with purple biolights that edged his wheels, and protective steel plating that covered the front of his alt mode, and at his engine ports. Two thick bands of red steel covered in a stripe on his hood and huge pipes extending from the back. The back wheels were much larger than the front and had a row of sharp spikes that ran on the top of the steel covering of the back wheels. With a whirr of pistons, the car transformed into a short, black and gray Cybertronian with red vambrace guards and bright yellow optics. His helm was bordered in black steel with two spikes that protruded from each side of his helm and a ruddy colored faceplate.

"Wildrider," Motormaster growled in greeting as the black mech stretched out his shoulder plates.

"Heyo, 'Master!" Wildrider greeted loudly - he was never  _not_ loud - a wide smile brightening his optics.

"Where are the others?" Motormaster asked quietly, moving so that he was towering over Wildrider. Wildrider flinched noticeably, optics quickly widening as the small car's engine spluttered. While Motormaster and the others had never known each other before waking barely two cycles ago, Motormaster reveled in the fear and hate all three directed towards him. That feeling of power was  _exhilarating_.

"I don't know," Wildrider stammered, "we split up and I haven't heard from Drags or End since we split up."

Motormaster snarled in displeasure, servos clenching slightly. "You-"

The roar of an engine cut off Motormaster's words, his attention turning to the entrance of the large room where a sleek, low built, front open-wheeled golden yellow racecar entered the room. He transformed out of his alt mode, revealing a mech who was slightly taller than Wildrider with a well defined chest plate, sleek arms and clawed servos, a purple helm, gray faceplate, yellow optics and two wheels on his back.

"Dragstrip," Motormaster hissed. Dragstrip tilted his helm up to Motormaster, a scornful look burning in his optics as he gave a mocking smile to Motormaster.

"Yes,  _boss_?"

Motormaster could not help but bristle at Dragstrip's tone, how he called Motormaster 'boss' with such obvious scorn.  _Be glad Shockwave needs you, Dragstrip_ , Motormaster though scathingly as he glowered down at Dragstrip. "Where is Dead End?"

"He'll be here in a bit. He's most likely off moping about his inevitable end or something like that. Maybe even got distracted polishing himself,  _again_ ," Dragstrip snorted then gave Motormaster an impassive, bored wave of one servo.

Fuming, Motormaster shot his servo out towards the smaller mech, yanking Dragstrip off the ground by the yellow mech's arm. Dragstrip instinctively thrashed, pulling against Motormaster's grip for a few moments in an attempt to escape but a warning snarl from Motormaster stopped him from moving more.

"Do not try my patience, Dragstrip," Motormaster hissed as he glared straight into the smaller mech's yellow optics. "This is the first time we have been online since we all underwent Shockwave's project, and you are taking it-"

A terribly long and drawn out vent interrupted Motormaster's coming rant, his optics snapping to the slim, sleek red mech that had just entered the room. Dead End was the slimmest, though second tallest of the group, with large, shoulder plate coverings that gleamed of just polished metal. Ever the secretive kind, Dead End's optics were hidden behind a slim purple visor and his mouth was covered by an ivory mouthplate. His chestplate was sleek, and had one stripe of gold on the left side of his chest plate. Strapped to Dead End's backstrut were two seethed swords, both marked with the Decepticon symbol.

Motormaster said nothing to Dead End, though he did lower Dragstrip to the ground with another warning glare. "Each of you failed to report to me while you were out, what did you find?"

"Nothing really," Dead End muttered.

"Just more boring Autobot slagheads and lame wastes of our time. Just like last cycle," Wildrider added boredly, his right pede tapping incessantly against the floor.

"Again?" Motormaster said coolly, belying the fury that was roaring through his chassis.

"We have been awake for barely  _two_ cycles, Motormaster," Dragstrip snarled, "give us a break. Maybe instead of you lazing around in here - in Shockwave's laboratory - you should be helping look for the last Cybertronian Shockwave needs."

"You idiots!" Motormaster roared, servo smashing into Dragstrip's small frame, sending the yellow bot crashing into the wall with a heavy thud. Wildrider flinched and backed away from Motormaster -  _wise decision_ \- optics shifting between Dragstrip and Motormaster quickly. Dead End stood stock still, queitly observing Motormaster and Dragstrip's confrontation, emotions and thoughts hidden by the visor and mouthplate that covered most of the quiet Cybertronian's faceplate.

"Do none of you realize what Shockwave will do to us if we don't find the fifth member of our team? And quickly? Our fates hang on your combined incompetence!" Motormaster snarled, shooting a hard glare to all three. "We are the only ones who successfully made it through Shockwave's experimentation process! All others have died in the process and he is growing tired of waiting for the fifth. Even his patience wears thin and, for every day you fail to find him a suitable subject, his tolerance for our failures wears ever thinner.

"Shockwave is being generous in allowing us to take part in the selection of our last team member. We only have two weeks to find our last member, find out if we can work with them and complete Shockwave's 'project'. Shockwave will not be pleased if we aren't in time for his plan and I don't think any of you will want the punishment he can serve."

"Oh, yes, we couldn't have figured  _that_ out," Dragstrip hissed as he picked himself up from where he had crumbled to the floor, servo clutching at his chest plate where Motormaster had struck him. "We are doing our best and, as you said, we still have time. And we'd have more if you helped!"

"Somebody has to stay for when Shockwave returns-"

"And that somebody is you because you think you are the leader of this," Dragstrip jabbed his servo towards Dead End and Wildrider, "group. No one picked you and, just because you were some hotshot leader of Decepticons during the war, doesn't mean we want you as our leader."

"Then," Motormaster hissed as he poured all his wrath into the glare he sent Dragstrip, "who should be leader? You, Dragstrip? Don't make me laugh. You could never be a leader. You are an incompetent, vain fool who cares only about your own self. Our team needs a strong leader, like me, for our team."

Dragstrip looked like he was about to protest but seemed to think better of it, gaze shifting away from Motormaster's with a displeased growl of his engine. Motormaster growled in warning satisfaction then shot both Wildrider and Dead End warning glances.

"Head out tomorrow. Search all cycle if you must, but you  _need_ to find the last member of our team.  _Quickly_." Motormaster urged, emphasizing his words with a stomp of his pede.

"Whatever you say, 'Master," Wildrider cackled, giving Motormaster a low, mocking bow.

Dragstrip said nothing as he stomped away from Motormaster, unconsciously rubbing at his chest plate as he left. Dead End continued to watch Motormaster then, quietly, ducked away and hurried after Dragstrip and Wildrider.

Motormaster watched the three leave then turned, thoughts tempered as he too headed off to his small quarters.

* * *

Breakdown stared at the ceiling of his room, thoughts a swirling mess of everything he had read that day. The car could not understand why no one - not Dreadwing, not Wheeljack,  _no one_ \- had told him about their dead friend he shared his name with.

_Maybe that is why Wheeljack hates me_ , Breakdown realized suddenly, a pained ache stabbing into his spark.  _He must think I took his friend's -_ his  _Breakdown - name as a joke. But I didn't! I didn't! My name was all I knew when I became online._

_Why would the Well - why would_ Primus  _\- name me after this deceased Breakdown? What was the point in that, besides making a cruel joke of me?_

Anger, confusion and pain waged battle in Breakdown's spark as his thoughts swirled haphazardly. His reading had led to nothing but more confusion about who he was and  _why_ he had been created. But there were too many questions and so few answers. It was distressing.

_What could-_

A gentle rap against his door, snapped Breakdown's thoughts away and directed his gaze to his door. "Yes?" He implored hesitantly, striding to his pedes as he slowly approached his door.

"Breakdown? May I come in?" It was Dreadwing, his voice soft and - almost,  _almost_ \- hesitant.

"Uh, sure," Breakdown replied as he pulled open his door, gaze turning up to Dreadwing. His caretaker had a strange, distant look in his optics that quickly vanished as Dreadwing tilted his gaze down to Breakdown.

"I heard from Lorespeaker that you spent the day at the Research and Study Room. Did you find what you needed there?"

"Yes, I did," Breakdown said, optics shifting evasively away from Dreadwing. He wasn't going to tell him the whole truth, not if they kept information from him as they had.

"Good, good!" Dreadwing said with fake cheerfulness. "I'm glad to hear that Breakdown."

"Sure," Breakdown grumbled. "How was the meeting?"

"Boring. You didn't miss anything by not going," Dreadwing said, a light laugh escaping his vents.

Breakdown let out a noncommittal grunt of agreement, shoulder plates shrugging slightly as he turned away from Dreadwing. "I'm tired. Good night."

"Breakdown? Are you-"

Breakdown cut off the rest of Dreadwing's with a heavy slam of his door, pain splintering through his spark as he did so. He cared deeply for Dreadwing and he hated hurting him but Breakdown had been hurt too.

"I'm sorry, Breakdown," Dreadwing whispered apologetically from the other side of Breakdown's door.

Breakdown didn't answer and, after a few more klicks, the thud of Dreadwing's steps faded down the hallway.

Dreadwing,  _everyone_ , had lied to him by not telling him about the original Breakdown and he could not think of a justifiable reason why they would. And if they all kept a secret about someone who had been close to them, what would prevent them from lying about more stuff?

_What more could Dreadwing and the others be keeping from me? I can't trust them to not be lying to me every day. I can't trust them…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference (since I can't describe Transformers to save my life):
> 
> Breakdown and Dragstrip have their designs based off of their War For Cybertron or Fall of Cybertron concept arts (specifically the concept art). 
> 
> Wildrider's design is based off of ShadowElite217's (YouTube) 3D design of Wildrider, based on the War For Cybertron games.
> 
> Motormaster is a mix of his War For Cybertron concept and ShadowElite217's design for him.
> 
> And, lastly, Dead End's design is that of his Transformers Online's design (because oh boy does he look good).
> 
> Of the three viewpoints expressed in this chapter, Motormaster was my favorite. He is so different from any other voice I have written between this and Scars and it is glorious.
> 
> By the way, Windriver's name is Windriver not Windriver (only clarifying because while proofreading this I saw that possible confusion).


	3. Chapter 2

" _Psst_ , hello? Dragstrip? Get up? Dragstrip? Hello?! DRAGSTRIP?"

Dragstrip snapped awake at the barely quieter than a shout of his name, optics narrowing on the black and gray Cybertronian staring down at him. "Wildrider," he hissed, "what do you want?"

"Uh," Wildrider sounded, servos jerking to his left where Motormaster was standing, glaring over at Dragstrip with hatred obvious in his purple optics.

"He can glare, I don't give a scrap," Dragstrip yawned as he turned his back pointedly towards Motormaster. "I haven't gotten enough rest yet."

Wildrider stared at Dragstrip, horror flooding his yellow optics at Dragstrip's words, the mech's gaze glittering in Motormaster's direction.

"He's not going to attack you, Wildrider," Dragstrip groaned. "You have no reason to fear him. And if he does-"

"Does it matter, though? Because we are all going to die anyways," Dead End added darkly as the handsome red mech walked past where Dragstrip and Wildrider were.

Wildrider shot Dead End an irritated glare, then stomped away from Dragstrip, engine snarling stressfully. Dragstrip watched after Wildrider then shrugged his shoulder plates.  _Now I can get some more, much needed recharge-_

"Dragstrip." Motormaster's growl was low, the threat in his tone obvious as the towering black, gray and purple Decepticon glowered down at him.

"Yes?" Dragstrip yawned in disinterest, gaze flickering towards his clawed servos with bored disdain.

"Get  _up_ ," Motormaster snarled.

"Nah, I don't think so,  _boss_. I still need a few more  _groons_ of sleep," Dragstrip explained with a dismissive wave of one servo.

Motormaster's engine roared and, without warning, his servo shot out and wrapped around Dragstrip's helm, yanking him off his berth and leaving him dangling from Motormaster's grip. Dragstrip grunted and tried to pull at Motormaster's grip but a deadly glare from Motormaster's optics stopped Dragstrip.

"Do not," Motormaster threatened as he shoved his faceplate nearly against Dragstrip's, "challenge me, Dragstrip."

Before Dragstrip could reply, Motormaster threw him to the ground, the hard crash forcing a grunt of pain to escape from Dragstrip's vents. Dragstrip glowered up at Motormaster hatefully as the large Decepticon turned his baleful gaze on Dead End and Wildrider.

"You better find the fifth member  _this_ cycle, or I  _will_ punish you," Motormaster snapped, gaze shifting to Dragstrip its a clear threat.

Dragstrip slowly pulled himself to his pedes, returning the same glare to Motormaster. "Whatever you say,  _boss_ ," Dragstrip growled quietly, gaze shifting away from Motormaster in quiet surrender.

Motormaster glared at Dragstrip again then let out a snort of steam from his vents. "Don't be idiots and get lost again. Make sure you contact me whenever you find a potential fifth member of our team."

"We  _know_ ," Wildrider groaned loudly before he transformed into his high-wheeled alt mode. Dead End looked towards Dragstrip then transformed also, into his sleek, streamlined sports car mode.

Dragstrip vented then followed the suit of his two team members, racing out of Shockwave's laboratory with Dead End and Wildrider beside him.

* * *

"Today, recruits, we are going to practice the correct method for taking down larger, threatening opposition." Breakdown listened to Bulkhead's speech dismissively, perched as he was high above the training floor for the Wrecker recruits.

Breakdown had woken up early once again, though this time he had had a precise understanding of what he was trying to find. He'd snuck into Dreadwing's quarters - the Seeker always went on flights when he first woke - and Breakdown had hacked the Wrecker's private data system. It had taken him awhile to hack through the Wreckers' security protocol but, when he successfully done so, Breakdown's fears had been confirmed. Dreadwing and the rest of the Wreckers had deliberately hidden all information of the Breakdown from before from him. He had even found datafiles specifically encoded to prevent Breakdown from being able to access any information on the Breakdown who had come before him.

Breakdown was upset and, to clear his thoughts, had hidden high in the rafters of the Wreckers' training room, in part to clear his thoughts and to be able to hide from view. He had been unsurprised, though wary and watchful, when Bulkhead had brought the Wrecker recruits in for "safe and nonviolent enforcement tactics" training.

Quietly, Breakdown watched Bulkhead as he demonstrated the takedown maneuver on a sturdy mech named Skyshatter. As Bulkhead took Skyshatter down with a loud crash, Breakdown let out a frustrated vent. There was going to be no possibility of quiet now, especially once the entire class of recruits began practicing.

With a quick hop, Breakdown scurried to his pedes and slunk along the rafter's, reaching a small entrance that led down a narrow passageway that led away from the training room. Quickly, Breakdown scrambled down the stairwell, skidding h to a stop at the exit door. With a slow pull, Breakdown opened the door and peered into the hallway, venting in relief when he spotted no mech down the length of the hallway.

_I'd best be heading off back to my quarters-_ The sound of heavy steps interrupted Breakdown's thoughts, ice shooting through his backstrut as he hesitated. His optics caught on a statue - and the hiding place it offered - and, just in time, Breakdown dove behind the statue. A few moments after Breakdown had settled in behind the statue, both Dreadwing and Wheeljack turned into the hallway.

Wheeljack's optics seemed distant and unfocused as he and Dreadwing walked by Breakdown's hiding place. Dreadwing was shifting his attention between a sleek datapad and Wheeljack, optics calculating.

"Honestly," Wheeljack rumbled, stopping suddenly by the statue Breakdown was hiding behind, "I don't know if I like the proposed changes Bumblebee is suggesting for our program."

"You are alluding to the shorter program, or something else?" Dreadwing asked Wheeljack curiously.

"Both," Wheeljack admitted. "I've grown quite accustomed to the six stellar-cycle program we have now. Our recruits that have graduated from the six stellar-cycle program are far more successful than those that are forced out in two stellar cycles. I don't like the idea of a three stellar cycle program. I can't even fathom  _why_ Bumblebee would suggest the change."

"Funding," Dreadwing offered. "You know how much our program is costing Cybertron's government."

"That's ridiculous!" Wheeljack grumbled, "I know full well we could find better ways to reduce costs  _besides_ forcing recruits into a much shorter program."

"Wheeljack, while I do agree with you, you need to see the broader picture here-"

"Oh, stuff it." Wheeljack glowered at Dreadwing, denta grinding with displeased fury as the white Wrecker fumed. "Bumblebee could have asked us before about ways we could reduce the cost of the Wrecker Program, instead of just telling us that his plan for the Program reduction has already been approved."

Dreadwing looked like he was about to respond but Wheeljack cut off any attempt with a snarling thrum of his engine. "Bumblebee doesn't have the power - the  _right_ \- to change the program Bulkhead, Breakdown and I created. If Breakdown was still around, this wouldn't be happening! Bumblebee's processor would have been screwed on right by Breakdown, and he would never have suggested such a change!"

"But he  _isn't_ around anymore, Wheeljack! Breakdown is  _dead_ and he's never coming back, Wheeljack.  _Never_!" Dreadwing shouted, fury, pain and agony battling in his voice. Breakdown felt a shiver of fear rush down his backstrut. In the stellar cycle that he had lived with the Wreckers and Dreadwing he had never once seen Dreadwing lose even an ounce of control.

Wheeljack seemed just as stunned as Breakdown was at Dreadwing's outburst, for the white Wrecker was blinking in quiet surprise as Dreadwing glared down at him. Slowly, with a deep exvent, Wheeljack turned his helm away from Dreadwing. The white Wrecker's optics were dull as he stared at the floor.

"I know our Breakdown isn't coming back," Wheeljack whispered miserably, "but Primus do I miss him."

"We all do," Dreadwing said, his voice once again calm, though his mouth had turned down into a deep scowl.

Wheeljack suddenly let out a deep, humorless laugh, one that jarred through Breakdown's chassis like servos brushing through steel wool. "And now that little fragger you care so much about, that  _Breakdown_ ," Wheeljack spat Breakdown's name with unbidden hate, "has taken our friend's name and is wearing it as if it is his own."

Breakdown shrunk backwards, pressing his backstrut further against the wall at Wheeljack's stinging, hateful words.

_He hadn't_ chosen  _his name, he hadn't! Do they all believe I_ chose  _my name? Even Dreadwing?_

Quickly, Breakdown glanced over to Dreadwing, fearing what his caretaker would say. But Dreadwing only shook his helm at Wheeljack disappointedly.

"You can't think that is true, can you? Breakdown doesn't even known about the Breakdown we knew for ages. You took great lengths -  _all_ of us did - to ensure that he never did learn about Breakdown from before,  _Wheeljack_. I sincerely doubt that he chose his name in mockery of our Breakdown," Dreadwing said assuredly, servo clasping onto Wheeljack's shoulder plate.

"And if he did take the name Breakdown in mockery? What then, Dreadwing? Will you still care about him as you do now? As if he can make up for those you -  _we've_ \- lost?" Wheeljack hissed, anger snapping from his chassis in waves.

"Nothing will change, Wheeljack. I will care for Breakdown as much as I already do," Dreadwing said coolly. "Do not mistake me when I say that I do not believe Breakdown,  _this_ Breakdown, has any knowledge of our deceased friend. It is highly unlikely that he would have chosen that name as it is. Remember, he told Ratchet and I that he believes he was forged by the Well and that name was all he knew. Do not be angry at him for the fact that he shares his name with the Breakdown we knew."

Wheeljack glared up at Dreadwing momentarily then quickly shoved Dreadwing's servo off his shoulder plate. "You believe what you want to believe, Dreadwing. I know what I believe." With a final glare in Dreadwing's direction, Wheeljack stormed away.

Breakdown stared after Wheeljack then turned his gaze back to Dreadwing. Dreadwing let out a vent and began to walk away from the statue Breakdown was hiding behind. Without thinking, Breakdown scrambled out from behind the statue and called Dreadwing's name.

Dreadwing whipped around, red optics narrowing slightly as his gaze landed on Breakdown. "Breakdown? What- You were listening in weren't you?"

"Yes," Breakdown admitted quickly. "Tell me, please, why you kept the existence of the Breakdown you knew before secret from me?"

To Dreadwing's credit, the blue mech glanced away guiltily, a frown arching across his faceplate. "I did not wish to-"

"But you  _did_ ," Breakdown hissed.

"I know I did. I regret doing so, though-"

"Of course you do!" Breakdown cried, "What did you think I would do? Did you think I would have acted differently if I been told about the first Breakdown?"

"No," Dreadwing muttered softly. "It wasn't my idea. Ratchet and the others insisted on it, not me."

"Whose idea it was does not matter," Breakdown snapped. "What matters is that you purposely hid information from me! Do you believe I chose the name Breakdown as a joke, like Wheeljack believes? Well, I didn't! The name Breakdown was all I knew about myself when I was forged, I didn't pick the name! Did you take me in only because you felt guilty about your friend's death?"

"Breakdown, I never suggested-"

Before Dreadwing could finish his statement, Breakdown shot the blue Seeker a glare then, without hesitation, transformed into his alt mode and raced down the hallway away from Dreadwing.

"Breakdown, wait! Breakdown-"

But Breakdown was out of audial range before he could hear the rest of Dreadwing's words, a defiant rumble cracking through his chassis as he raced out of the Wrecker's headquarters and shut off his commlink.

* * *

Breakdown maneuvered carefully through the traffic leading out of Iacon - the city where the Wrecker headquarters was located - discomfort rippling through his chassis. He  _hated_ driving through traffic, especially traffic as congested as this was, and he could not help but feel a flush of nerves clawing through his spark as he watched each Cybertronian he passed.

It was irrational, Breakdown  _knew_ it was irrational, but he could not help but feel like each Cybertronian he passed was staring at him.  _Staring_. Shuddering, Breakdown attempted to quell his nervousness forcefully, but it did little to stop the feeling of optics running across his chassis.

_Stop staring at me_ , Breakdown thought as he passed another car, mirrors twitching nervously as the Cybertronian flashed their lights at Breakdown.

Not wishing to linger, Breakdown poured on the gas, racing past two cars before taking a sharp right on an off ramp, engine snarling as he slowed around the bend. He had no destination in mind, except to get far away from the Wreckers headquarters to clear his thoughts.

He was mad at Dreadwing for hiding behind the excuse of Ratchet and the "others" not wishing to tell Breakdown about the Breakdown who had been their friend, but also greatly conflicted at the same time. He liked Dreadwing and hated upsetting the great Seeker, but he also detested anyone keeping secrets from him. Secrets made him feel weak and vulnerable, at least more than he already was.

_I'll go back home to the headquarters eventually, I just need to cool my thoughts. Dreadwing and the others won't care anyways._

* * *

Dreadwing's scans showed no trace of Breakdown, his vents forcing out steams of frustration. He was worried about Breakdown, especially since he had never seen such a reaction from the young mech before.

It was obvious to Dreadwing that Breakdown had found out about the original Breakdown, though what the young Breakdown had learned Dreadwing was unsure of.

_Does he believe he is somehow reincarnated, like what Ratchet believes? Does he think something else? Does he know how much we were friends? What does Breakdown know?_

"Oh, Breakdown, why did you have to run away? I was going to explain everything to you," Dreadwing vented to himself tiredly.  _Stubborn young mech, but I can't let him stay away for long. I have to find him-_

"Dreadwing?"

Dreadwing turned at the soft voice, optics shifting to the slim pastel purple, pink and blue femme standing near him. "Clawshock, what do you need?"

"I don't need anything," Clawshock answered, her optics narrowing slightly. "You just seem to be acting slightly off. Are you okay?"

"I am," Dreadwing hesitated, unsure of whether to tell Clawshock the truth then vented. "I am deeply worried about Breakdown. He was very upset with me earlier today and ran away. He hasn't contacted me and his commlink is off so I can't contact him. I- I'm scared…"

Clawshock's optics softened and, with her characteristic gentleness, she placed her servos on Dreadwing's shoulder plates. "Dreadwing," she breathed, one servo gently stroking his faceplate, "give him time. Breakdown is young, he will come back. Trust me."

"No, you don't understand!" Dreadwing hissed. He'd never particularly taken to Clawshock, but the amount of anger he felt towards her at the moment surprised him. "Breakdown was extremely upset when he left. I'm afraid he could get hurt. I have to find him-"

"Dreadwing, stop. Breakdown will come back. It will do nobody any good if you freak out about him leaving. Accept it."

"Never!" Dreadwing roared, "I can't let him get hurt! I can't lose Breakdown again!"

Without thinking, Dreadwing wheeled away from Clawshock as he transformed into his alt mode and blasted down the hallway, desperation fueling his engine.

He had to find Breakdown. He  _had_ to.

* * *

"So… How do we know who this special fifth member of our team is?" Wildrider suddenly asked next to Dragstrip.

Dragstrip glanced over at the black car driving beside him and gave Wildrider a slight shrug of his tires. "I have no idea, Wildrider. We volunteered for Shockwave's project - for whatever reasons we all did - but he has had no more successful volunteers since us. We need to look for a strong candidate, or at least someone who is easy to manipulate."

"But," Wildrider interceded, "Why do we have to manipulate someone to join us, Dragstrip? Can't we just find someone who genuinely wants to be part of our team-"

"Because no one  _wants_ to be forced into a team with four Decepticons they have never met before," Dead End explained, a hint of cynicism in the red Decepticon's words.

Wildrider stared at Dead End for a few moments then let out a very noticeable grumble from his engine. "Whatever…"

" _Dragstrip, report."_ Motormaster.  _Again_.

"Nothing new, Motormaster," Dragstrip said, letting honey deep into his words though all he felt for Motormaster was complete and utter hate.

" _You three better not be slagging off again,"_ Motormaster snarled warningly. " _You better report with a finding by the end of this cycle or I_ will  _have to punish all of you - especially you Dragstrip. Shockwave is growing ill of patience and I don't believe he will be accepting of failure again - be it ours or someone else's."_

"I  _get_ it, Motormaster!" Dragstrip snapped - oh how he  _hated_ Motormaster. "But finding the right mech for our team is a lot harder than you think. But you wouldn't know that, would you? What with how you laze about all cycle in Shockwave's laboratory!"

Motormaster snarled under his breath at Dragstrip's taunt. " _I would highly suggest finding a place for the night. Take whoever you find there and evaluate them to see if they have potential as the fifth member of our team."_

Dragstrip rolled his optics then, without replying to Motormaster, shut off his commlink. "We will split up," he ordered Dead End and Wildrider, "I will find us a temporary base and you two search for anyone who might possibly work in our team. Contact me whenever you have the chance."

"Of course, Dragstrip," Dead End replied then, with a roar of his engine, banked to the left and shot away from Dragstrip and Wildrider.

Wildrider made a bored sound then braked and shot to the right, jerking past cars haphazardly. Dragstrip vented his frustration with a snarl of his engine that spooked a passing Cybertronian into gassing it away from him. Dragstrip glared after the fleeing Cybertronian then, grumpily, merged into the right lane and began his search for a suitable resting place for that night.

* * *

Breakdown knew he was lost. He had been driving for so long, and had been so hung up on his thoughts that he had not been paying attention while he drove and was now lost.

_Good job, Breakdown! You idiot_ , Breakdown thought furiously, chiding himself without relent. Not only was Breakdown lost - and scared - but he also felt a yawning chasm of hunger and exhaustion tearing through his chassis.

Breakdown felt his tires stop before his processor had even registered that he had stopped, mirrors turning slightly to scan his surroundings. He had stopped on a long, empty strip of roadway, and his surroundings were completely dark.

_I'm nowhere near a city-state_ , Breakdown realized slowly, his processor not even registering the fact that he was alone in the dark. Venting tiredly, Breakdown shut off his engine and, without even a klick passing, fell into a deep recharge.

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Dragstrip snapped, optics narrowed on the small, purple Vehicon standing in front of him. Wildrider - who had brought the Vehicon in - grumbled something under his breath then snarled at the Vehicon. The Vehicon flinched and then scampered away, transforming and racing away as Dragstrip turned his glare on Wildrider.

"Are you stupid, Wildrider?" Dragstrip snarled, servo jerking after the vanishing Vehicon. "You actually believe that a  _Vehicon_ would fit in our team? You moron!"

"Uhh," Wildrider droned, "sorry?"

"Sorry?" Dragstrip laughed, "Sorry? Primus you are an idiot, Wildrider. What do you think Motormaster or Shockwave would think if we brought them a  _Vehicon_ of all mechs to be the last member of our team?"

"They'd be mad?" Wildrider guessed, an innocent smile cracking over his faceplate.

"They'd tear us apart!" Dragstrip roared, fear disassembling the calm front he always had. "I don't wish to see Motormaster tearing my limbs off in front of my optics, or have Shockwave use me as his next interesting  _subject_ to study, all because  _you_ thought a  _Vehicon_  would be right for our team."

Wildrider rolled his yellow optics and muttered something under his breath quietly. Dragstrip did not press the black mech, though he did send him another glare. Venting, Wildrider turned on his heel and stormed out of the small base Dragstrip had found.

Dragstrip glowered after Wildrider, watching as the black mech transformed into his alt and raced away with a loud screech of tires.

"Dead End," Dragstrip snarled over the commlink they shared, "report something good,  _please_."

" _Nothing, as usual. I ran across someone who I thought one might have worked but they freaked out when they realized I had the Decepticon insignia. Their reaction was… intriguing."_ Dead End let out one of his recognizably unamused snorts as he spoke, the distant sound of his engine rumbling offering Dragstrip a sense that Dead End had found his encounter quite entertaining.

"Keep looking, Dead End. I'll be returning to the streets briefly. If you need anything just comm me."

" _Understood, Dragstrip. Good luck."_

"Thanks," Dragstrip muttered as he heard Dead End cut off their commlink, irritation dragging at his tires.

_I don't want to regret signing up for Shockwave's program, but if we don't find our fifth member soon we are_ all  _dead and I will regret agreeing to Shockwave's project._

* * *

Breakdown woke briefly, his engine groaning as he adjusted to his surroundings. Now the road was in complete darkness, and this time Breakdown felt a strange nudge of warning in his spark. His gaze turned, shifting about him, looking for whatever would make his spark pulse so nervously.

Before his gaze had even turned a few feet, a sudden, agonizing jolt of electricity roared through his spark, shutting his entire system down within nanoseconds.

* * *

Dead End slowed as he approached a set of stoplights, gaze shifting between every one of the Cybertronians beside him in their alts. He had never understood the obsession Cybertronians had with bustling into traffic immediately, especially when one realized that it didn't matter in the end. In the end everyone would offline, so why rush everything?

An angry honk snapped Dead End out of his thoughts and, with a bored vent, he drove through the green light he'd been too distracted to notice. After a few klicks, Dead End merged into the next lane and pulled onto a much quieter roadway. He liked the quiet, the silence opening up so much more time for his thoughts to wander. And, being the only one on a roadway gave him opportunities.

With a thrum of his engine, Dead End stoked his engine, blasting down the roadway with satisfying speed. Speed was the one thing that Dead End  _always_ liked, even on the days that he was most uninterested in anything. Speed felt  _good_ -

" _Dead End are you dreaming again? I've been contacting you for the last five klicks!"_ Dragstrip sounded annoyed - again - but that was vastly unsurprisingly to Dead End. Dragstrip always sounded like he had something stuck up his tailpipe.

"Yes, Dragstrip?" He answered boredly.

" _I've been trying to get you to inform me on your progress for frag's sake! Motormaster is going to rip my helm off soon if he doesn't get a report from me; and I need your input to make the report."_

"I see," Dead End answered. "I've found no one of interest still, Dragstrip. What I do find interesting though is why you detest losing your helm so much? Don't you wonder what death is like?"

" _What?!"_ Dragstrip barked. " _No, no I do not! I'm not fragged in the helm like you are, Dead End. I don't obsess over death, except to know that I don't want to die for a long time!"_

"That's too bad," Dead End vented.

" _Unbelievable. Primus keep me sane,"_ Dragstrip muttered over the commlink quietly. " _How about you fantasize about dying later and concentrate on finding the last member? Wildrider and I are trying and we need you to pitch in also."_

"Very well, Dragstrip. If anything of complete, boring interest pops up I will tell you," Dead End assured.

Dragstrip vented - he always seemed obsessed with venting, maybe he had an issue with his intakes? - then shut off the commlink between himself and Dead End.

Dead End rolled his optics - Dragstrip was so  _tiring_ to talk to, even for him - then slowed slightly when he spotted seven pairs of taillights ahead of him. Dead End began to slow further when he realized that the seven pairs of taillights were blocking the entire roadway. As he scanned for a way to pass the four mechs, a sudden, strange, uncontrolled tug in his spark drew his gaze to the last mech in the line.

The alt was a small sports car, his colors hard to figure out though Dead End believed he was blue and white, with large engines at the back of his alt. But, what was strangest to Dead End - besides the strange tug of his spark towards the small sports car - was the fact that the other six Cybertronians were pulling the small sports car.

_Odd_ , he realized as he shut of his lights and approached the sports car being towed - for once he was thankful for the silent engine that Shockwave had retrofitted him with after he had agreed to join Shockwave's project.

As he pulled up alongside the sports car, Dead End felt that same strange, inexplicable tug at his spark again.  _What does it mean_? Dead End wondered as he continued to stare at the sports car. Dead End was not renowned for his empathy or emotion, so feeling his spark pulse so vividly at the sight of the sports car before him was…  _unusual_ to say the least.

_.:Dead End? What's going on?:._ Wildrider's voice - not through the commlink but the strange, inexplicable,  _inescapable_ bond that all four had noticed after Shockwave experimented on them - startled Dead End, causing him to fall back from the small sports car.

.:Wildrider? What do you mean by what's going on?:. Dead End ventured, a bit unsure of communicating through the bond. Only Wildrider ever seemed to partake to communicating through the bond, Motormaster and Dragstrip both only ever used it to yell at the other whenever Shockwave was nearby so that the Decepticon scientist could not hear their argument, and Dead End never seemed to find a point to using it.

_.:I felt something weird from you, Dead End. I can't explain what it felt like but I'm just a bit… nervous? Are you okay?:._

.:Yes… I'm alright. I just… No, it was nothing:. Dead End decided, though he did send the strange feeling he'd gotten near the sports car to Wildrider.

Dead End felt Wildrider peruse over the feeling curiously then shrug mentally, just as confused as Dead End was himself.  _.:No idea, Dead End:._

_.:Investigate whatever that is, Dead End, or I will personally show you what death feels like!:._

.:I would take you up on your offer any other time Motormaster, but very well:. Dead End vented, though he did send Motormaster a quick note of confirmation. Ignoring the bond, Dead End once again followed the six cars towing the small sports car.

He followed the group of cars from far back, slowing when they slowed and all the while watching the blue and white sports car as he was towed away.

_What is their purpose in taking him?_ Dead End wondered curiously,  _I can't imagine that he is very interesting. Or at least interesting enough to warrant them wasting energon to tow him._

_.:It doesn't matter what reason they had, just follow them!:._ Motormaster roared through the bond - another issue Dead End had with their bond was that each one could read any of the other's thoughts if they tried hard enough - causing Wildrider and Dragstrip to flinch - all of which Dead End felt uncomfortably in his chassis.

.:I am following them already,:. Dead End grumbled quietly. .:I would be able to follow them easier if you would stop distracting me, yes?:.

Motormaster's only response was an annoyed flash of anger through the bond then Dead End could no longer feel the presence of the three through the bond, which was relieving. With the bond silent, Dead End once again quietly followed the six cars, noting how strangely they seemed to act as they drove.

_They obviously know that they are up to no good,_ Dead End guessed.  _But why tow the sports car?_

Dead End's question was answered quickly when the six cars took a sharp left across the road and pulled into an empty lot. Dead End watched them closely as he silently pulled into the empty lot.

One of the six transformed out of his alt mode and quickly began unhooking the blue and white sports car they had been towing. As he unhooked each of his companions, they all transformed out of their alts, stretched and turned towards the sports car.

"What should we do with him?" One of the transformed mechs asked, her voice reedy and high as she glowered down at the sports car.

_Is he in stasis?_ Dead End wondered. It seemed odd to him that the sports car had still not woken up, so he knew something must have happened to him. But what?

"I don't know, Scarmark, how about we just have fun?" Another - likely the leader - responded with a sharp crackle of laughter.

"I  _like_ that idea," a third cackled, servos pressing together giddily as he peered down at the sports car. "Could we burn him, Skidtrail? I haven't seen what a burning Cybertronian looks like yet!"

"Easy, Rivet," the leader laughed as he began to pace around the still sports car. "Though I agree. Burning sounds cool."

The rest of the group let out jagged laughs as their leader suddenly stomped on the sleek car's hood, right servo transforming into an energon blade. Without hesitation the leader stabbed his sword into the sports car's side. The fact that the sports car made no sound when he was stabbed made an unusual tug of nervousness pull through Dead End's spark - an then that same, unknown yearning from his spark.

He didn't understand what it Why his spark ached so much around the sports car but he would not stand around any longer. With a hiss of pistons, Dead End transformed out of his alt and began to sneak around the group of six cruel Cybertronians. As he neared the group, Dead End reached behind his back and pulled out the two sheared swords he always carried with him. He transformed both to their full, bladed length, one a bright, energon blue while the other was a dark cherry-red.

Nine of the six heard his advances for their loud laughter and crazed giggling that ensued as they poured vast amounts of high intensity energon - the most flammable and explosive kind - over the blue and white sports car's chassis. Dead End knew he had to act fast if he wanted to figure out why his spark twisted around the sports car. So, without a second thought, Dead End lunged forward, blue sword cleaving through the Cybertronian named Rivet. Before any of Rivet's friends could react, Dead End's second sword slashed through the chassis of another and his blue sword cut down a third.

The three remaining thugs backed away almost the instant they saw Dead End looking towards them, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his swords.

"Run!" The leader screeched towards his remaining two companions, both of whom almost automatically transformed into their alts and tried to bolt.

But Dead End wasn't letting any of them escape. Before the leader could get far, Dead End's red sword had sunk through his engine, rendering him immobile. Their leader's immobilization gave pause to the remaining two, something they would quickly regret. Without waiting, Dead End lunged forward and, using the precision he had learned through a millennia of war, slashed his last sword through both stunned Cybertronians. Their chassis's hissed and sparked and fell apart, leaving Dead End to just himself, the blue and white sports car and the gang leader.

Dead End marched up to the gang leader and ripped his sword from the Cybertronian's engine, tearing his sword all the way down to the end of his alt mode. The leader's chassis groaned and heaved apart as Dead End approached the sports car.

.:Wildrider, Dragstrip, I'm going to need your help with this guy. He is in complete stadia lock and  _dripping_ with fuel:.

_.:On our way, Dead End. Just hang on:._

* * *

" _Hey, wake up little guy!"_

Breakdown snapped awake with a loud jolt, optics darting wildly until they settled on three Cybertronians towering over him.

The tallest of the group was a sleek red, with a purple visor covering his optics. The one next to him was golden yellow with a tight scowl curving down his faceplate. The last was black and gray with an extremely curious look in his optics as he stared down at Breakdown.

Breakdown tried to scramble away from the three but when he moved his chassis blazed with fiery pain so prominent it stopped his movement. His servo clutched at his chest plate, a sinking feeling of horror brushing over his spark as he felt a strange scar in his chest.

"Easy, buddy," the black mech suddenly said, "you got stabbed in the chest plate there. I don't think moving too much would do well for you."

Breakdown tried to speak but all that slipped from his mouth was a whimper of fear. When the golden yellow one heard Breakdown's whimper he let out a disgusted snort then turned a scathing look to the red mech.

"Good job, Dead End, you got attached to an idiotic coward. Just our luck."

The red one -  _Dead End_ \- shrugged and didn't answer except for a disinterested huff from his engine. Dead End's response served to only anger the golden yellow mech, who swore and smashed his right servo on the berth right near Breakdown's helm.

"Un-fragging-believable! You just don't give two bolts about our -  _your_ \- fate, do you?"

"Not really. Everyone's fate goes down the same path in the end; what difference does it make if that is sooner rather than later?" Dead End mused.

"Uh." this time the black mech was the one who spoke up, his voice drawing the attention of both Dead End and the golden yellow one.

"Yes, what do you want Wildrider?" The golden yellow one snapped, optics narrowing dangerously.

"You two were so busy arguing you forgot why we are here. This little dude," Wildrider said, jabbing a servo at Breakdown.

Breakdown flinched, optics snapping between the three Cybertronians as the golden yellow one and Dead End both turned their gazes on him. The golden yellow one looked even more annoyed and he quickly sent a glare to Wildrider, who stared back at him boredly.

Dead End vented then turned to Breakdown. "My name is Dead End, this is Wildrider, and this," he pointed towards the golden yellow one, "is Dragstrip."

"What is your name?" Dragstrii asked, though he seemed uninterested in Breakdown's response by the way he stared at his servo pointedly.

"Breakdown," he answered quickly, helm ducking to avoid Dragstrip's suddenly rapt look.

"Your name is Breakdown?" Dragstrip reiterated, a strange inflection in his words.

"Yes."

"Like the Decepticon Breakdown? The guy who nearly destroyed the Wreckers just because he had a grudge against them? Neat." Wildrider whistled in appreciation as he stared down at Breakdown, a strange smile cracking across his faceplate as he did.

"Uh," Breakdown hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Not really. That was my name from when I was forged. I'm not named after anyone."

"Whatever you say, sparkling," Wildrider snorted in response.

Breakdown did not retort - though he did not like being called a sparkling - to Wildrider's jab. Instead he gave Dead End, Dragstrip and Wildrider a searching look.

"Why am I here? What do you want with me?" Breakdown asked the three nervously, gaze shifting between the three as they all shared a look.

Dead End turned towards Breakdown first, arms linking over his chest plate. "I saved you from becoming a gang's flaming experiment, and brought you here so we could heal you."

"Why?" Breakdown asked fearfully. He didn't just trust someone because they claimed they'd helped him for no reason.  _Everyone has a motive to everything._

"Because it is not right for me to watch as someone is burned alive," Dead End growled.

Breakdown was surprised to hear truth in Dead End's words and, as he looked at Dragstrip and Wildrider both gave him a nod.

"Well, thank you for helping me," Breakdown began, "but I really should be heading back to my home."

Dragstrip and Dead End shot each other questioning looks at Breakdown's statement while Wildrider just stared at him.

"I don't think that is a wise idea, buddy," Wildrider said. "You look like you need a good, long recharge. You can stay with us for the night and then go back to your  _home_ in the morning."

"I don't know, I really should be heading back," Breakdown muttered.

"Oh come on, one night isn't going to kill your family," Wildrider urged.

"It is in your best interest - and safety - for you to stay the night here," Dead End interjected. "You would not wish to crash because you are tired and injured."

Breakdown crossed his arms and let out an uneasy grumble but decided to listen to Dead End and Wildrider's advice.

"Okay, I'll stay the night. But then I'm going back. My caretaker will be worried about me."

"No need to worry," Wildrider laughed, "You will be perfectly safe with us.  _Completely_."

Breakdown looked away from the group, an unhappy thought crawling into his processor.  _Dreadwing is going to be worried sick about me - isn't he?_

* * *

Dreadwing scanned the roads below him, dipping his wings slightly as he shot over building and highways.  _Still no Breakdown_ …  _Where did he go? I hope he is safe…_

Breakdown had been gone for  _groons_  - nearly an entire cycle! - much longer than Dreadwing was accustomed to and he was getting more and more nervous as each  _groon_ passed.

He had not stopped searching for Breakdown, and would not. He couldn't lose Breakdown. Not again.

* * *

Dragstrip's gaze kept turning to where Dead End and Wildrider were protectively flopped over Breakdown. The young sports car had not stayed awake for long after Dragstrip and the others had introduced themselves to Breakdown. After he had fallen into recharge, Dragstrip, Dead End and Wildrider has argued about his potential as a member of their team.

Dragstrip had been unsure of Breakdown - something seemed  _off_ about the blue and white Cybertronian and Dragstrip couldn't place  _what_ \- but after Wildrider and Dead End both argued for Breakdown, Dragstrip had grouchily agreed.

_We will have to be wise about interacting with Breakdown. I don't think we should let him know our true intentions just yet. Let Wildrider and Dead End befriend him and then we will bring him to Shockwave and Motormaster._

At the thought of Motormaster, Dragstrip ground his denta together, vents hissing angrily.  _I'd best contact Motormaster so he knows our situation._

With a deep vent, Dragstrip buried his irritation deep in his spark and opened up the bond between himself and Motormaster. Almost immediately, Dragstrip's thoughts were overwhelmed by the choking fury of Motormaster's thoughts, the sudden onslaught making Dragstrip almost purge his tanks.

.:Motormaster, I have something to report:. Dragstrip thought, shoving a sense of urgency towards Motormaster.

Motormaster's response was almost immediate, the fury dissipating to a questioning irritation.  _.:Yes, Dragstrip? What is it?:._

.:Dead End found someone who could potentially work for our team. He's young but I sense that he is stronger of spark then what his small frame shows. We are going to stay away from the base until he is comfortable with us. That might take a few cycles, just so you know. But once he is comfortable with us, we will bring him to you and Shockwave for approval:.

_.:Good. Just don't mess this up, Dragstrip. I will inform Shockwave and you three better be smart about this:._

.:We will Motormaster. Trust me:.

Motormaster's only response was a snort of disbelief through the bond then a very clear warning flash of thoughts. Dragstrip gulped and quickly shoved the bond away, gasping uncomfortably as his thoughts cleared and he could no longer feel Motormaster's rage.

Dragstrip turned his gaze once more to Wildrider, Dead End and Breakdown. As he did a strange, inexplicable sense of fear rushed through his chassis. He'd never asked why Shockwave wanted him and the others - what the project was that the Decepticon scientist had forced upon them.

_What_ is  _Shockwave planning to do with us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badass, war veteran, sword wielding Dead End is fun. Actually, war veteran, experienced, Stunticons are fun in general.
> 
> Wildrider thinks Breakdown's pretty adorable (he hasn't met many young mechs before) and Dragstrip is only just now questioning what Shockwave wants. Also, none of the four know what a gestalt bond is - though Wildrider has taken great pleasure in pestering his team with it when they sleep.
> 
> (I shamelessly love the Stunticons and am super glad to be writing them finally).
> 
> (Also, I utterly and completely hate the feeling of steel wool; Breakdown hates it too).
> 
> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up in around a week or less.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transformers © HASBRO

" _Why are you taking me in? So you can use me as a charity case?" Breakdown snapped as he glared up at the Seeker calling himself Dreadwing._

_Dreadwing vented and reached a servo towards Breakdown. Fear striking through his spark, Breakdown scrambled away from Dreadwing, back pressing against the wall behind him as his engine began to stutter. Dreadwing looked hurt, his optics shifting away from Breakdown as he lowered his servo._

" _I do not wish to hurt you, Breakdown, and my intentions are not what you think. I hope only to help you and care for you," Dreadwing admitted softly._

_Breakdown stared at the blue Seeker warily, servos tightening into fists. "How can I believe you?"_

" _Because I give you my word and I never go against my word. I believe in honor and it is by my code of honor that I promise to you I have no intentions to harm you. I would gain nothing by hurting you or lying to you."_

" _Honor? Seriously? No one believes in_ that  _anymore_ ,"  _Breakdown scoffed, his confident words hiding the fear stabbing into his spark._

_Dreadwing, to Breakdown's surprise, did not seem angered by Breakdown's words, though the Seeker did straighten himself to his full height._

" _You may not believe in honor, but I_ do _, Breakdown," Dreadwing stated as he looked down at Breakdown with an unreadable expression._

_Breakdown tried to match Dreadwing's gaze but gave up quickly, fuel lines heating with embarrassment as he did so. He didn't particularly take to the idea of living under Dreadwing's care - he still couldn't figure out_ why  _Dreadwing and Ratchet seemed so quickly to agree on taking him in - but Breakdown also couldn't help but think about the prospect t of not living on Cybertron's streets ever again. Not having to scrounge for discarded, nearly empty energon cubes or to steal from others to procure enough credits to live another cycle._

_Going back to the streets did not appeal to him - never again - but trusting somemech else? That seemed just as scary and unknown as continuing his life on Cybertron's unfriendly streets._

" _Even if you do not agree to what I have offered you, you may stay the night here and decide next cycle." Dreadwing's voice broke through Breakdown's thoughts, drawing his attention to the Seeker once again. Dreadwing looked down at Breakdown briefly then suddenly turned away and walked down a darkly lit hallway._

_Breakdown stared after Dreadwing's retreating form, thoughts cycling through his processor. He could leave now and go back to the familiar routine of life in the streets or he could stay one night cycle and decide his fate in the early light of next cycle._ The streets or trusting somemech else to not be lying. Neither is preferable, but one is even less so.

_His decision made -_ for now  _\- Breakdown scrambled after Dreadwing, catching up to the Seeker quickly. Dreadwing looked down at him and, for a brief nanosecond, Breakdown thought he saw the Seeker smile._

Laughter jarred through Breakdown's thoughts, waking him from the memory slowly. He could not recall hearing laughter from his room in the Wrecker's headquarters before, so immediately his spark tightened with a paranoid, uneasy nervousness. Slowly, his optics adjusted to the crude light - another incongruity as he always kept his room brightly lit, even through the night cycle - and, with tension bristling through his chassis, Breakdown looked around.

He realized quickly that he was in a vast hanger, one large enough to store space worthy ships of larger than average size. Breakdown's gaze shifted further, stopping when it landed on three Cybertronians standing away from him, one shiny red, another black and gray and the last a sleek golden yellow. The black and gray one was laughing at something the golden yellow one had said, while the red one stood with apparent disinterest next to those two.

Slowly, like moving through tar, Breakdown's processor began to gather the memories of the night previous. He knew the three - relatively - Cybertronians standing away from him and why he was not in his room in the Wrecker headquarters. He'd fled his home and had been 'saved' by the red Cybertronian,  _Dead End_ , from a gang of street thugs. At least that's what Dead End and his allies, Dragstrip and Wildrider, maintained had happened to bring Breakdown here to this nondescript -  _scary_ \- hangar.

He remembered falling into recharge the night previous, and now he was here. With three Cybertronians he did not know, in a place he did not recognize and a growing sense of unease. Breakdown had to figure out  _why_ the three had helped him, if they had intentions besides what Dead End had claimed the previous night and whether Breakdown could trust them or not.

"Hey, look who's awake!" Wildrider suddenly called, his words sending a shudder down Breakdown's backstrut.

_Scrap_.

Dragstrip and Dead End both turned their gazes to Breakdown as Wildrider skipped up to him, bending down to stare Breakdown in the optics. Wildrider's bright yellow optics had a strange, unnervingly dangerous light to them which seemed to bore straight through Breakdown's entire being. It took all of Breakdown's willpower to not flinch at Wildrider's closeness.

"Feeling better?" Wildrider asked suddenly, servos shifting to Breakdown's back to help him sit up on the crudely made medical berth.

"Uh," Breakdown hesitated, servo shifting to his chest plate where he had been stabbed through the engine hood of his sleek sports car alt mode. To his surprise the wound was completely healed and all that was left was a thin scar. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good," Dragstrip growled as he pushed up next to Wildrider, who shot Dragstrip an irritated glare. Dragstrip shifted his right servo over Breakdown and dropped a small cube of energon next to him. "You might want this."

Breakdown stared at the energon cube suspiciously at the same time as his spark clambered for sustenance. With the briefest of hesitations, Breakdown snatched up the energon cube and, after muttering a hasty 'thank you' to Dragstrip and his friends, began devouring the cool fuel. His fuel lines seemed to thrum happily as Breakdown finished off the energon cube, gaze shifting to the three Cybertronians nervously as he finished.

Dragstrip and Dead End had their helms ducked close together and were muttering to each other quietly while Wildrider stared at Breakdown ceaselessly.

"Yes?" Breakdown asked of the black and gray mech, an unwelcome rush of nerves spiking through his spark and churning through his fuel lines.

Wildrider tilted his helm and stared at Breakdown, optics narrowing slightly. "Nothing. Just, you are new - and young - and I haven't met someone new in stellar cycles and I find you interesting because you are new and I'd like to know more about you because you are new-"

"Wildrider! Enough!" Dragstrip snapped, tone scolding as he shot a pointed glare across the hangar towards the dark colored mech. Wildrider stared at Dragstrip confusedly for a few moments then let out a long 'oh' and gave Breakdown an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that, buddy. I ramble sometimes. Dragstrip gets annoyed about it for some reason," Wildrider offered in explanation, shoulder plates shrugging as Dragstrip groaned behind him. "I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you, little buddy, just not used to having new mechs to talk to. Though I still don't know why Dragstrip doesn't like it when I talk a lot."

"Because you are an idiot, Wildrider, that's why," Dragstrip snapped, arms crossing over his chest plate as he rolled his optics in Wildrider's direction.

"But I'm  _your_ idiot. Right?" Wildrider snickered as he leaned against Dragstrip's shoulder plate, optics fluttering mockingly as he stared up at Dragstrip.

Dragstrip made a disgusted noise then shoved Wildrider off him, servos flicking over his chassis on the side Wildrider had leaned on as he shot Wildrider a warning glare. "Unfortunately you  _are_ our idiot, Wildrider."

Wildrider giggled then turned a bright smile on Breakdown, who flinched slightly at the sudden attention from Dragstrip and Wildrider - Dead End had been watching him quietly the whole time Dragstrip and Wildrider had been busy bantering with each other. "Little buddy, your name was Breakdown? Right?"

"Uh, yes…" Breakdown affirmed. Wildrider smiled openly at his response but Dragstrip only seemed to narrow his optics even further.

"Neat," Wildrider answered. "Now I know that we introduced ourselves already but-"

"Why were you on the streets last night?" Dragstrip interrupted Wildrider with his question, glare slicing through Breakdown effortlessly.

Breakdown stumbled over his words, his voice box letting out a strangled, unintelligible squeak as his spark convulsed nervously. Dragstrip seemed to notice how his presence affected Breakdown, a sneer curving down his faceplate as the golden yellow mech suddenly backed away from Breakdown. A small, muted note of relief escaped Breakdown's vents, but he still could not help but feel an irritatingly cloistering sense of fear plaguing his spark as he stared at Dragstrip.

Dragstrip suddenly growled and snapped his gaze to Dead End, a silent message passing between the two as they locked gazes. Dead End's visored gaze hid any sense of expression the red mech could have, but Breakdown could tell by the almost imperceptible rigidity that set into Dead End's backstrut that he was annoyed with whatever Dragstrip was saying. Dragstrip's optics rolled and, with a pointed snarl from his engine, Dragstrip turned his gaze back to Breakdown.

"I am going to ask you once again," Dragstrip said with an overly polite inflection to his words. "Why were you on the streets? We can tell you aren't a street thief, you are too well fueled for that; Dead End suspects you ran away from your home - wherever that is. So what's the real reason Dead End found you being towed behind common street thugs?"

Suspicion immediately stabbed into Breakdown's spark, his gaze shifting between the three Cybertronians staring down at him.  _I can't tell them the truth, I don't know them and they could be plot-_

"Whoa, hey, easy little buddy!" Wildrider suddenly said, snapping Breakdown's attention completely to the dark mech. Wildrider had a bewildered look in his optics, one that quickly shifted to an expression of complete laughter. "We aren't plotting anything crazy, or going to sneak into your home and offline your loved ones. Dragstrip's got terrible communication skills, that's all."

"I do not!" Dragstrip snapped, his yellow optics narrowing furiously in Wildrider's direction.

Wildrider smirked and leaned closer to Breakdown -  _there was that strange, uncomfortable feeling in his spark again_ \- shooting a conspiratorial look towards Dragstrip. "He really is, though he tries to deny it. Ol' Dragstrip here is a crazy, unsociable old mech. Too much high-grade energron when he was young."

"WHAT?! I'm not  _old_!" Dragstrip spluttered, letting out a strangled, affronted gasp as he spoke. To Breakdown's shock, he heard Dead End let out a small laugh at Dragstrip's furious response. For the brief amount of time Breakdown had been with Dead End, Dragstrip and Wildrider, he had not taken Dead End to have any sense of humor. A jab in Breakdown's side turned his attention back to Wildrider, who gave Dragstrip a smug look before looking back at Breakdown.

Wildrider's yellow optics flashed with mirth and a wide, overly cheerful smile as he looked down at Breakdown. Breakdown shifted his gaze slightly away from Wildrider's, never one to be completely comfortable with looking another mech in the optics for any amount of time. Wildrider seemed to notice though he didn't seem all that bothered as another light chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Dragstrip'll go about it all the wrong way when talking to anyone. His words may be brash -  _and he may not be the best looking mech out there_ \- but his intentions are only good. He - well, Dead End and I also - are just curious as to what would bring a well fueled, healthy mech out to those parts of the streets?"

Breakdown looked between Wildrider leaning next to him, and Dead End and Dragstrip who were watching him quietly and irritably, respectively. He didn't know what to do. Did he lie? Tell a partial truth? The whole truth?

"I ran from my home and stopped in that area because I was tired." The explanation escaped from Breakdown before he even began to realize he had said something, his servos tightening with stress as quickly, self-consciously turned his gaze away from the three.

"Why?" Wildrider asked. "What made you run away?"

"I got in an argument with someone I cared about," Breakdown said quickly, still not looking at Dead End, Wildrider or Dragstrip.

"About what?" Wildrider implored curiously.

"Nothing important, really. It was just a disagreement," Breakdown said evasively. Dragstrip and Dead End looked at each other then back towards Breakdown at his obvious attempt at an evasive lie.

"Where do you live?" Dragstrip asked, a strange intensity burning at the edge of his optics.

"Why do you want to know?" Breakdown asked back, suspicion shuddering through his chassis.  _I have to be careful with what I say. I don't know these mechs, and they very possibly could be plotting to do something to me - or someone else._

Dead End and Dragstrip shared a small glance then turned back to Breakdown simultaneously, both crossing their arms over their chest plates as they did. Wildrider, in retrospect, was staring at Breakdown, optics shuttering slowly.

"I was just curious," Dragstrip said with a dismissive wave of his servo. "Wildrider had suggested that we ensure you get back to your home safely and so I was hoping you would tell us where you came from."

"I can get home on my own, thank you very much," Breakdown snapped. He had realized he had to get away from this hangar, from these three strange Cybertronians. He had to get back to Dreadwing. Breakdown had been a fool to to run away from the Wreckers headquarters.

_I should have stayed there. I shouldn't have gotten so angry at Dreadwing. He had his reasons for not telling me about the deceased Breakdown. Right?_

_Why rationalize it, though? Dreadwing_ lied _, plain and simple. There was no reason for him to lie except that he doesn't trust me._

Breakdown's thoughts waged war in his processor, indecision cracking through his spark. Was he justified in his anger that Dreadwing had hidden something as important as a deceased friend from him?

_I trusted Dreadwing with everything about me_ , Breakdown remembered, spark sinking in muted despair.  _I believed he did the same. But he_ didn't _. Why? What made him afraid of telling me about the Breakdown he had known? Does it have to do with what I overheard him and Ratchet talking about three cycles ago?_

_And if so, why? What is so important that both Dreadwing and Ratchet agreed to keeping that secret? What are they afraid of?_

"Hey, Breakdown, you okay?" Wildrider's question tore through Breakdown's thoughts, jarring the small mech back to the hangar.

"Oh, um, yes," Breakdown replied softly. "I was just… lost in thought."

"We could tell," Dragstrip muttered icily. Breakdown glared up at Dragstrip, about to snap retorting words but stopped when he saw Dragstrip's expression. For a brief moment he thought he had seen a flash of  _fear_ race through the golden yellow Cybertronian's optics.

Before Breakdown could dwell on what would make the assertive, irritable Dragstrip  _afraid_ , Wildrider jabbed his elbow into Breakdown's side. Breakdown turned an affronted look on the dark mech, who gave a shrug and mouthed 'didn't do it' to Breakdown. Breakdown glowered at Wildrider until he heard Dead End speak.

"Breakdown."

Curious, Breakdown turned his attention to Dead End, noting how the mech was staring at him very closely. "Yes?"

"I can tell that whatever you were thinking about has caused you turmoil. If you wish to speak about it, we are willing to listen." Dead End indicated Dragstrip and Wildrider as he spoke, which Wildrider affirmed with a nod of his helm. Dragstrip only gave a light shrug of his shoulder plates as his sign of agreement.

Breakdown hesitated once again. He still felt uneasy talking about himself - always had - but he also hated having the weight of his thoughts dragging at him forever.  _Maybe I should just start by telling them where I live? Or maybe why I left?_

His servos clenched as his thoughts raced, finally letting out a puff of steam from his vents as he decided. "I live with the Wreckers."

Immediately, Breakdown saw Dragstrip's optics snap to him, Dead End shifted his stance slightly and Wildrider let out a low whistle.

"Okay, didn't expect that," Wildrider said, digits brushing across his chin. "You a Wrecker recruit?"

"No," Breakdown said with a shake of his helm, "I was taken in by Dreadwing - he is an instructor for that program - almost two stellar cycles ago. I've lived at the headquarters since then."

Wildrider nodded in impassive response then suddenly jolted, optics narrowing on Breakdown. "Dreadwing… Is this Dreadwing the one you argued with to make you run away?"

"Uh," Breakdown stammered, "yes, he was."

"Sorry to hear that, buddy," Wildrider said. Without warning, Wildrider suddenly gave Breakdown a rough rub on the helm. Breakdown yanked away from Wildrider, giving him a pointed frown.

"I have heard many stories about Dreadwing," Dead End admitted, his gaze shifting further away as if lost in memories. "From what I heard about him he doesn't seem the argumentative type. So what could have happened between you and him that would cause an argument that hurt you enough to make you run away?"

Dead End's words dug into Breakdown's spark, melting away the apprehension he had about telling Dead End, Dragstrip and Wildrider the truth. With a frustrated, hurt vent, Breakdown shifted his frame away from the gazes of the three Cybertronians.

"I found out that Dreadwing and the other Wreckers had been hiding information - information about a deceased friend of theirs - hidden from me. I naively believed that Dreadwing hid no secrets from me when he took me under his wing. He told me about being a Decepticon and even about what the former Decepticon Second in Command, Starscream, had done to his dead brother.

"I trusted him enough to tell Dreadwing everything about myself, even my fears, yet he kept the existence of his dead friend hidden from me. I can't understand why he would have kept  _that_ secret and so I confronted him about it just last cycle. He tried to say that keeping that secret wasn't what he had wanted to do, but he still did."

Dead End, Dragstrip and Wildrider looked at each other, their thoughts unknown to Breakdown. A few nanoseconds later, Dragstrip turned to Breakdown, unbidden curiosity lighting through his optics.

"Who was it that thy kept secret from you?" Dragstrip asked. For some reason, for a brief moment, Breakdown could have sworn that Dragstrip already knew the answer - Breakdown wasn't sure though.

"A mech known as Breakdown, who fought during the war and was part of the team who revived Cybertron," Breakdown offered. Almost the moment he had finished, his suspicions towards Dragstrip's knowledge of that Breakdown was confirmed for, with an almost imperceptible growl of his engine, Dragstrip nodded.

"All three of us have heard of him. Breakdown, much like the rest of Team Prime, is quite famous around Cybertron-"

"That just makes me question  _how_ Dreadwing was able to keep the fact of his existence hidden from  _this_ Breakdown," Dead End muttered, more to himself than Breakdown, Dragstrip or Wildrider.

"And why?" Dragstrip added. "Do you have any idea why Dreadwing would keep that from you, Breakdown?" Dragstrip shot a searching look to Breakdown as he directed his question towards him.

Breakdown rubbed at his neck plates self consciously. He hadn't really rationalized  _why_ Dreadwing would have kept that secret, but a sneaking suspicion tugged at his thoughts. "I overheard Dreadwing and Ratchet of Team Prime discussing their dead friend and me at the same time a few cycles ago. I couldn't understand then what they were talking about but I have a feeling they believe I could possibly be a reincarnation of the Breakdown they knew."

"Impossible," Dragstrip scoffed. "Reincarnation is merely an idiot's foolish tale from the ancients. Once someone has been offlined, they are offlined  _permanently_."

"How can you be sure?" Wildrider asked, optics narrowing on Dragstrip.

"Because only fools believe in those tales," Dragstrip said, boredom leaking into his words.

Breakdown looked between the three, nervousness biting at his spark. Wildrider had what resembled a look of sympathy in his optics as he looked at Breakdown, while Dead End had his side turned to Breakdown indifferently. Slowly, the red mech's gaze turned to Breakdown, all the more unreadable behind his visored gaze.

"I wasn't saying I believe that," Breakdown hurriedly explained, "Ratchet is the one who believes it possible-"

Dragstrip snorted in disbelief then turned away from Breakdown, arms crossing over his chest plate. "Of course."

Breakdown felt a self-conscious heat rush through his fuel lines, embarrassment settling into his engine at Dragstrip's impassive disinterest - and disgust - aimed towards Breakdown. He barely knew Dead End, Dragstrip or Wildrider, yet he felt a deep seated discomfort in seeing any of three look at him with such disinterest.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shouldn't have mentioned what Ratchet thinks I am - I_ don't  _believe in it, even! - only fools would believe in the old tales._

"So," Wildrider said slowly, optics narrowing slightly as he cast Breakdown a sideways look. "You ran off because Dreadwing lied to you, right?"

"Yes," Breakdown vented. "It was dumb, I shouldn't have left. I wasn't thinking, I need to go back-"

"Why?" Dragstrip asked coolly, optics homed in on Breakdown closely - a fact which made Breakdown's chassis crawl.

"Because I have to," Breakdown tried to explain, voice feeble as Dragstrip stared him down. "Dreadwing will be worried…"

"You mean the Dreadwing who lied to you, right?" Dragstrip asked rhetorically, an air of smugness radiating off the golden yellow mech as he crossed his arms over his chest plate and his optics glittered.

Breakdown was already very nervous about Dragstrip. The golden colored mech was too sharp tongued - and too quick to notice Breakdown's missteps - all of which made him uncomfortable near Dragstrip. It didn't help that Dragstrip obviously disliked Breakdown immensely - he could tell by the disdain with which Dragstrip looked at him constantly.

"Well," Breakdown started, words trailing off when even he heard the lack of conviction in his voice. Dragstrip was right. Dreadwing  _had_ lied to him and, not only had the Seeker lied but he had purposefully colluded in keeping the truth from Breakdown. It would be putting it very mildly in suggesting that Breakdown was hurt by Dreadwing's decision.

_But enough to not go back? The Wrecker headquarters, Dreadwing, all of that, is my home, the only_ real  _home I have ever known. I can't just run away because-_

"Thinking about it won't do you any good. He lied to you, simple as that," Dragstrip snapped, interrupting Breakdown midthought.

Breakdown's engine revved at Dragstrip angrily but, before Breakdown could retort Dragstrip's words, the golden yellow mech gave him a dismissive look.

"You're how old again?" Dragstrip asked, words as sharp as steel.

"Forty stellar cycles," Breakdown grumbled in clarification.

"And you think that you  _have_ to go back to Dreadwing? Who, might I remind you and by your own admission, lied and betrayed your trust. Is that not right, Breakdown?" Dragstrip asked, all the while pacing around Breakdown closely. Breakdown looked away from Dragstrip, the digits of his left servo brushing against his right arm self-consciously.

"I… I have to," Breakdown said softly, though his voice lacked conviction -  _again_.

"Why do you believe you have to return to Dreadwing and his Wreckers?" Dragstrip asked, his once harsh tone softening.

Breakdown looked up at Dragstrip momentarily, noting how the golden yellow mech's optics had a stern but soft light to them. Without speaking, Breakdown shrugged his shoulder plates in muted response, fuel lines burning self-consciously.

"Breakdown," Dragstrip said softly as he moved in front pf Breakdown. Slowly, Dragstrip shifted Breakdown's helm to the golden yellow Cybertronian's optic level with his sharp digits, which were positioned under his chin.

Breakdown looked into Dragstrip's bright yellow optics quietly and without a fight. Dragstrip's gaze softened as he looked at Breakdown, servo slowly shifting away from Breakdown.

"We," Dragstrip gestured to Dead End and Wildrider, "won't lie and  _betray_ you like Dreadwing and his  _friends_ did. I promise you that. Stay with my friends and I. Please?"

It was the resounding conviction in Dragstrip's words and the burning fire in his yellow optics that gave Breakdown pause. He knew that he  _should_ head back to his home with the Wreckers - that was the  _correct_ decision - but the conviction in Dragstrip's words and the hope that sparked in Wildrider's purple optics stopped him. Would it really be bad to stay with Dragstrip, Dead End and Wildrider? It would only be temporary, then he could go back to Dreadwing and the Wreckers.

_I highly doubt Dreadwing actually cares if I come back anyways. He most likely didn't even notice that I have been gone_ , a nasty voice echoed in the back of Breakdown's processor, the words sending claws of doubt stabbing through his spark.

"I guess you are right, Dragstrip," Breakdown admitted slowly. "Dreadwing more than likely doesn't care if I'm gone as it is. He'll just be mad I ran away. So what does it matter if I go back or not?"

Dragstrip gave Breakdown a small smile then gently placed one servo on Breakdown's shoulder plate. "We care about you, though. Stay with us and you will have us beside you as your  _friends_."

Wildrider nodded in agreement, a smile brightening over his face as he gave Breakdown a gentle nudge from his elbow strut. "If we are going to be friends, you have got to know who we are. Right?"

"Uh, I guess?" Breakdown replied, shoulder plates shrugging with disinterest.

"Well, I'm Wildrider, pessimist there is Dead End, and 'Mister I think I'm the boss' is Dragstrip. But you already know our names, sorry!" Wildrider interrupted,laughed lightly.

"Yeah," Breakdown mumbled. "I do…"

Wildrider chuckled then suddenly gave Breakdown a rough rub on his helm then pointed to his right shoulder. Cleverly hidden on Wildrider's shoulder was a dark gray symbol - one Breakdown knew only from stories.

"Decepticon? You were a  _Decepticon_?" Breakdown gasped, he only knew one Cybertronian who had been a Decepticon, that being Dreadwing, and he had heard more bad than good about Decepticons.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Dragstrip snapped, anger knifing through his words.

"I… I just haven't met any Decepticons before, or at least any who still claim themselves as Decepticons," Breakdown said quickly at Dragstrip's menacing glare.

"Well now you've met three Decepticons. We're just so  _scary_ aren't we?" Dragstrip snapped.  _No more kind Dragstrip I guess…_

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Breakdown said hurriedly. "I-"

Dragstrip's glare shut down the rest of what Breakdown was going to say, causing the young mech to hang his helm self-consciously. He hadn't meant for his words to be as nervous and speculative as they were and he couldn't help but feel nervous about his choice of words again.

"I didn't mean my words how they were," Breakdown urged, quietly hoping that Dragstrip especially would hear the conviction and truth in his voice. "I have never met and talked with Cybertronians who still see themselves as part of the Decepticon cause. I was surprised - if not, admittedly, nervous - when Wildrider showed me that. But that does not mean that I'm afraid of you because you three are - were - Decepticons. Or that I dislike you..."

Dragstrip snorted in disbelief then turned his back on Breakdown, though Breakdown did not fail to notice that Dragstrip's golden optics were still watching him. "Sure," he growled, evidently unconvinced with Breakdown's attempt at an explanation.

Breakdown looked towards Wildrider, who gave him an unexplanatory shrug of his shoulders. When Breakdown looked towards Dead End, to gauge his reaction, the silent red Cybertronian only seemed to be staring past him. Unreadable.

"I'm sorry?" Breakdown ventured. He didn't feel right in apologizing, especially since he couldn't help but think that Dragstrip was overreacting to Breakdown's response, but he  _hated_ confrontations a whole lot more than he cared about his own ego or self-worth.

Wildrider waved one servo dismissively at Breakdown's apology, though his yellow optics seemed to burn with a strange anger as the taller Cybertronian looked down to Breakdown.

"An apology isn't needed," Wildrider growled, "Dragstrip finds a strange sense of joy in proclaiming himself as a Decepticon. He gets offended easily whenever someone questions his faction. Dead End and I don't care as much, honestly, though I  _despise_ the Autobots too much to conform to  _their_ government. War faction debates aside, I still haven't gotten the chance to really introduce my backstory - since there is nothing else better to do."

"Uh, okay?" Breakdown titled his helm up towards Wildrider, who was staring off distantly.

"I was forged during the very last few stellar cycles of peace before Megatron's war took center stage. I grew up in war and war is all I have ever known. I joined the Decepticon cause because they were more open to disorderly craziness -  _like me_ \- in their ranks. I served as a frontline soldier until Cybertron was destroyed. My unit escaped Cybertron and ventured into deep space until we received a broadcast that Cybertron had been revived. When what remained of my unit and I returned to Cybertron and learned that  _Autobots_ were running the planet we tried to rebel. I was the only one to survive the retaliation from Radiance's army… for some reason." Wildrider's expression turned serious and his optics shifted with a pained longing as he looked away from Breakdown.

"I met Dead End and Dragstrip just a couple of stellar cycles ago. We were recruited by-"

"By former Decepticons looking for a better grasp in Cybertron's government," Dragstrip suddenly interrupted. "Not everyone is happy with what Cybertron is now."

Breakdown stared at Dragstrip, processor cycling through every story he had read and been told about Cybertron's revival. Dreadwing had explained the war, and the two factions that had spearheaded the war to the destructive force it had become, many times to Breakdown. And for the few stellar cycles he had been online and living on the streets of Cybertron, Breakdown had been unable to miss the veiled anger and quiet discontent from so many Cybertronians directed towards the ruling government and the Autobots on Cybertron.

He could sense the same disgruntled anger and injustice in Dragstrip's words as that of the poor, homeless Cybertronians he had coexisted with on the streets for stellar cycles. And that made him scared. He had only ever seen this anger in the optics of those on the streets, an anger that consumed the every thought and feeling of so many Cybertronians.

"Why?" Breakdown asked. He asked less out of misunderstanding - he understood well why there were Cybertronians who disliked the current government - but he wanted to know why Dragstrip disliked it so much. "Why are you unhappy with the direction Cybertron has taken since its revival?"

Dragstrip let out a hollow laugh that echoed through the hangar as he shook his helm slowly. "You are too much of a sparkling to ever understand why we would be displeased with what Cybertron has become. You never endured the scorn and humiliation of the Iacon Trials, the feeling of everyone mocking you - all because you allied yourself with the side that lost the war. You have never experienced living on Cybertron as a known Decepticon - how much everyone blames you for what happened during the war: the loss of the planet, the loss of their friends or loved ones, all as if the Autobots played no part in the war. Your precious Dreadwing has kept you sheltered from how hard the lives of non-Autobot Cybertronians is. You never will understand."

"But I do understand!" Breakdown protested, "I do! I lived on the streets for stellar cycles. I experienced the loneliness of no one caring about my well being except for myself! I know the need to blame someone for my problems, the pain of being looked as at nothing more than filth! I understand that life more than you think, Dragstrip."

Dragstrip whirled towards Breakdown and, for the first time, Breakdown realized just  _how_ small he was compared to these three. Dragstrip towered over him, his golden yellow chassis rigid with fury as his bright optics glowered down at Breakdown. "No. You. Don't."

Breakdown opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Dead End pushed between Dragstrip and Breakdown, visored gaze turning to Dragstrip.

"Enough, Dragstrip," Dead End rumbled. Dragstrip looked at Dead End slowly then let out a long vent, optics dulling of their anger as he shifted his gaze away from Breakdown.

"Fine," Dragstrip muttered as he pushed Dead End away from himself. Dead End looked down at Breakdown then shook his helm as he pointed one of his servos towards Dragstrip, who once again had his back turned towards Breakdown and Dead End.

"Do not take much stock in Dragstrip's vehemence, Breakdown. His anger stems from loss, and anger is how he copes with all he has lost. He has also never excelled at interacting with others-"

"Yeah, he's generally too busy preening himself to learn how to talk with others," Wildrider chuckled. Dead End shrugged in response, helm tilting in a light nod.

Breakdown glanced across to Dragstrip, noting how the golden yellow mech's backstrut stiffened at Wildrider's words and his servos tightened into fists. Wildrider was completely oblivious to the anger starting to roll off of Dragstrip as he continued to tease Dragstrip.

"Wildrider," Breakdown said hesitantly, optics quickly shifting to the black mech standing near him. Wildrider paid no attention to Breakdown's quiet warning as he continued to mock Dragstrip, who was beginning to thrum with fury.

Dead End seemed to notice and quietly backed away from Wildrider, obviously not wanting any part of what both he and Breakdown knew was coming. Breakdown stared at Dead End and then quickly scrambled back, just in time to miss getting hit by Dragstrip's punch. Wildrider wasn't so fortunate as, wth a sickening crack, Dragstrip's clenched servo hit Wildrider directly in the helm, causing the dark colored mech to stumble backwards, servos spinning for balance.

"You would shut up if you knew what was good for you, Wildrider," Dragstrip hissed, venom dripping from each one of his words as the golden yellow mech strode up to Wildrider.

Wildrider recovered slowly, right servo brushing at the spot where Dragstrip's fist connected with his faceplate. Traces bits of energon spilled over Wildrider's servos as he sent a frosty look towards Dragstrip, engine snarling dangerously. "Watch it, Dragstrip, or I might just-"

Wildrider paused suddenly, helm tilting to the side slowly as if he was listening to something. Dragstrip seemed to be hearing the same - whatever it was - for his chassis had loosened and his optics seemed to stare out distantly. Bewildered, Breakdown turned to Dead End, stopping when he saw Dead End looking at him - but less  _at_ Breakdown and more as if Dead End was analyzing him. Breakdown could not help by shudder at the intensity with which Dead End was watching him.

Dead End did not cease watching Breakdown and, as the sleek Decepticon did, Dragstrip and Wildrider turned towards Breakdown slowly. Breakdown shivered under the combined gazes of the three Decepticons, until Dragstrip let out a snarl of anger from his engine.

"I'm going to go driving," Dragstrip announced. Wildrider snorted a 'whatever' in response and Dead End only glanced towards Dragstrip as the golden colored mech transformed into his alt mode and raced out of the hangar.

Breakdown watched Dragstrip leave, optics shifting to Wildrider and Dead End slowly. Dead End had walked off to a corner of the hangar that had a pile of boxes all labeled, "Wax-sol: For That Radiant Coat". While Dead End began to pull out bottles of coat wax, Wildrider let out a hiss of anger.

"I'm heading out to," Wildrider snarled, "if  _he_  contacts you, tell him I'm indisposed. I don't want to talk to  _him_ or Dragstrip."

Dead End only gave a disinterested grunt in response as Wildrider transformed and raced out of the hangar, too deeply invested in polishing up his chassis to look after Wildrider. Breakdown looked after the long gone Wildrider then back to Dead End, who was now completely distracted by his polishing, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to go back to Dreadwing and the Wreckers - Dragstrip was right - but he also felt awkward standing around in the hangar with only Dead End with him.

Venting, Breakdown's shoulders sunk and he turned to move to a far corner of the hangar but was stopped in his tracks by Dead End's emotionless, flat voice.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Breakdown turned and stared at Dead End, bewildered and confused by the suggestion.  _Hadn't they just worked to convince me to_ stay  _with them? So, why is Dead End turning on what he and the others just said?_

"But, Dragstrip and Wildrider-"

Dead End turned his gaze on Breakdown so suddenly, he froze in his speech, mouth still hanging open as the red mech stared at him with his emotionless gaze. "I brought you here so you could recover from your wound. Seeing as you have recovered, my purpose for bringing you here is no longer there. If you really do want to go back to your home, you should. Do not let Dragstrip pressure you into staying with us."

Breakdown closed his mouth slowly as Dead End continued to look at him, almost as if he was patiently waiting for a response. Venting, Breakdown lowered his helm as he quietly muttered, "But I do want to stay. Dragstrip was right in saying that Dreadwing betrayed my trust. I don't think I could go back just yet. I'm staying with you guys."

Dead End nodded slowly then turned away from Breakdown, resuming his previous task of polishing his chassis. Breakdown scuffed his pedes against the hard floor of the hangar, a sense of awkwardness rolling through his chassis. After a few more awkward klicks, Breakdown shifted to a corner of the hanger that was relatively close to Dead End and settled against the hangar wall.

As Breakdown slid to the floor of the hanger and stretched out his legs, Dead End let out a strange, quiet noise. Breakdown snapped his attention to Dead End, confusion clogging his processor at the sight of the red mech staring off distantly, an irritated pulse of energy thrumming from his chassis.

"Dead End?" Breakdown breathed as he stood up once again, hesitantly looking towards Dead End.

Dead End didn't seem to hear Breakdown as, with a growl of anger, Dead End struck out at the bottle of wax he had been using, causing the bottle to fall and spill at his pedes. Dead End paid no heed to the spilled bottle of wax and, slowly, Breakdown approached Dead End, stopping to bend down and pick up the Now nearly empty bottle of wax. Breakdown placed the bottle back on Dead End's table then began to clean up the mess with old mesh rags.

"Frag you too," Dead End hissed quietly - Breakdown only heard him speak since he was cleaning up wax spill near Dead End - servos clenching tightly.

"Are you okay?" Breakdown asked timidly, stopping in his efforts to clean to look up at Dead End.

"I am fine," Dead End said, his voice again flat and without emotion.

"Was it Dragstrip?"

Dead End snorted in response. "No, it was not Dragstrip."

"Then… who? You seemed really agitated…"

"He was another member of our group. He is very abrasive and discourteous. He also likes to shout a lot," Dead End explained boredly.

"Oh, okay," Breakdown replied, optics sinking back to the mess he was attempting to clean up.

Breakdown began to scrub at the wax when Dead End bent down to his optic level. Breakdown was about to explain himself - take the blame for the mess - but Dead End silenced his attempt with a pointed look. Sheepishly, Breakdown hung his helm and continued to clean the mess, scrubbing up the - admittedly gross - wax off the floor.

When two maroon, sharp servos joined in the work, Breakdown paused and looked up to meet Dead End's gaze. Dead End shrugged then continued to scrub at the floor. Smiling lightly, Breakdown continued in the quiet task, curiosity about Dead End breaking the silence of the task.

"Dead End?"

"Yes, Breakdown?"

"What did you do during the war?"

Dead End let out a  _hmm_ but did not answer, though he stopped scrubbing the floor to look st Breakdown.

Ashamed with his forwardness, Breakdown ducked his helm and muttered a stiff apology. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm sorry for asking, it was inconsiderate of me."

"No, it is fine to be curious, Breakdown," Dead End said cooly. "And it is only right if I tell you a bit about myself since you did the same earlier."

Breakdown stared at Dead End, surprised by his willingness to share with him. "Oh, uh, okay."

"I knew Cybertron before the war even rooted itself in the thoughts of Megatron. Before the war started I worked in the political branch of Iacon. I sensed that war was on the horizon sooner than my colleagues and so I left work knowing nothing good would come there. Not long after I left everyone who had stayed were killed. Eventually, I chose to join the Decepticon cause. I fought through the entire war in a specialized unit. I left Cybertron - as did many Decepticons - near the very end of the war and returned only when I happened upon the broadcast of Cybertron's revival in passing. Since then I have lived like many other Decepticons, watching from the shadows and waiting for my end."

"Oh, uh, I see," Breakdown said, gaze shifting away from Dead End hurriedly as the gloomy tempered mech resumed cleaning the floor. Silence filled the hangar, except for that of the scrubbing of the mess on the floor.

* * *

Breakdown woke groggily from recharge at the harsh whine of an engine. Lifting himself from the ground slowly, Breakdown turned his gaze, stopping when he saw it was only Wildrider. Wildrider noticed Breakdown and gave him an enthusiastic wave of his servo.

Breakdown waved back hesitantly, which made Wildrider smile widely.

"Hey there, Breakdown," Wildrider shouted as he walked up to Breakdown, servo scuffling the top of Breakdown's helm.

"Hey!" Breakdown protested with a light laugh, servos pushing Wildrider away from him.

Wildrider laughed and backed away from Breakdown, yellow optics bright with mirth as he looked down at Breakdown. "I'm glad you are still here, Breakdown. It is nice to have a new friend."

"Oh… uh, sure, Wildrider," Breakdown replied. Wildrider's exuberance and forthrightness was not something Breakdown was used to, but he couldn't help but feel a lightness in his spark at Wildrider's words.

_Does he really think of me as a friend? We don't even know each other and no one ever just wants to be_ my  _friend_ , Breakdown thought as Wildrider walked over to where Dead End was recharging. Wildrider tackled Dead End with a loud laugh, snapping the red mech awake, who gave Wildrider a frustrated snarl.

"Get off me, Wildrider," Dead End grumbled irritably. Wildrider snorted but backed off Dead End, who began to brush at his chassis with disinterest.

"Were you treating Breakdown right, Dead End?" Wildrider asked, his cheery tone edged by an almost imperceptible anger.

"Yes," Dead End droned. "We conversed for a time until Breakdown decided to recharge."

"Did Motormaster contact you?" Wildrider asked unhappily.

"What do you think? He was displeased when I told him that neither you or Dragstrip were being very communicative."

"Of course."

Breakdown tilted his head at the name he hadn't heard before, curiosity bringing him closer to Dead End and Wildrider. "Who is Motormaster?"

Wildrider and Dead End both looked at Breakdown and, judging by the frown on Wildrider's faceplate and the irritated thrum of Dead End's engine, whoever this Motormaster was, neither Wildrider nor Dead End liked him.

"Motormaster is the leader of our group," Wildrider explained. "He is pretty uptight and he is always checking in on us."

"Oh," Breakdown exvented. "Where is he?"

"At our base," Dead End growled.

Breakdown nodded slowly, realizing it might be best for him to stop prodding Dead End and Wildrider about Motormaster. Self consciously, Breakdown ducked his gaze away from Dead End and Wildrider, backing away from the two with a vent.

Neither Dead End or Wildrider seemed to notice Breakdown's retreat as they began to mutter quietly between themselves. Quietly, Breakdown scuffed his pedes against the ground, thoughts swirling as he settled down to recharge once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I got stuck halfway through and this whole chapter has taken weeks to write.
> 
> The Stunticons (Dead End, Dragstrip, Motormaster and Wildrider) in Fractured are considerably different from their G1 counterparts. They are older, more experienced, more mature and their personalities are not as extreme as their originals (but that does not mean they don't have the personality quirks I love about them so much). The four of them lived through the war and what they experienced as Decepticon soldiers has greatly influenced the difference between G1's Stunticons and Fractured's Stunticons.


End file.
